


The narrow road to honourable love

by Highflyer



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: ASOIAF Rare Pair Week, ASOIAF Rare Pair Week 2020, F/M, Jonsei, Older Woman/Younger Man, Slow Build, my dear Carol au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-18
Updated: 2020-09-13
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:21:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 21,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23203858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Highflyer/pseuds/Highflyer
Summary: Cersei Lannister has only one goal, to study botany in an esteemed university which will finally give her the sense of belonging that she always lacked. Her father however, has other plans for her. A marriage to a young man with stormy dark eyes and a brooding face, who goes by the name Jon Snow!
Relationships: Cersei Lannister/Jon Snow
Comments: 147
Kudos: 237





	1. Chapter 1

England, 1815

Cersei Lannister gently reached in and, carefully avoiding thorns, snipped the stem from the rosebush, pulling the bud toward her with nimble fingers to have a closer look. She eyed it with the detachment of a scientist, the expertise of a scholarly botanist, turning the rose slowly in her hands, taking careful note of its structure, its delicate beauty.

It was magnificent, the loveliest and healthiest plant she’d bred so far. It would take time to find a name dignified and unique enough for such a creation, though. She needed something perfect for such a perfect rose.

The sudden rustle of skirts made her turn. Bernadette, her hand maid, was all but running toward her through the garden.

“Come and look at this one, Bernadette,” she called out, smiling with satisfaction, her attention again focused on her rose.

“My lady,” Bernadette said, gasping as she approached, “there is something—”

“Hush,” Cersei admonished her as Bernadette doubled over trying to catch her breath. She took two deep breaths and wiped stray hair from her cheeks, stained pink from the cool morning air, her eyes wide and glowing with apparently delicate news.

“The Earl of Castle Black”—she gulped for air—“is here, and is in a meeting with your lord father.”

Cersei, however, was much more concerned with the lovely creation resting firmly between her forefinger and thumb. “Father and his meetings?”

Bernadette dropped her gaze to the flower and gave a squeal of delight. “Oh, this one’s lovely, my lady! Two colors of purple.”

Cersei smirked pridefully, placing the rose in her hand maiden’s outstretched hand. “More a lavender fading into purple, really. Now explain yourself. Who is here?”

Bernadette’s eyes darted between the flower and Cersei. “The Earl of Castle Black,” she replied very slowly.

“You mean the bastard,” deadpanned Cersei.

“Well, he isn’t really a bastard. Society’s talked about him for years—some sort of family scandal, I think, though nothing that really damaged him socially. For a time he was courting Ygritte. Then she dumped him on his arse—”

“Bernadette!”

“_and everybody speculated that he was mean, or foul-tempered and ugly, and that’s why she didn’t want him.” She dropped her voice to a mischievous whisper. “But I just got an excellent look at him, and he’s not ugly at all.”

Cersei smiled lightly as she took the lavender rose out of her handmaid’s fingers, starting her way up the stone path toward the house. “Do you take me as someone who revels in idle gossip?”

Bernadette fell into step behind her. “Apologies, my lady.”

Without pause, Cersei opened the kitchen door and walked into the house, placing her rose on the counter to free her hands for washing. Curiosity, however had gotten the better of her as to why her father would be meeting the Earl of Castle Black.

She promptly dismissed Bernadette and approached the closed door of her father’s study, but before she could knock she heard tense, male voices. Suddenly oblivious to her position, she instinctively leaned closer to listen to the argument between the two pompous oafs on the other side.

“I’ll pay you whatever you’re asking, but I refuse to marry for what rightfully belongs to me,” she heard a stranger’s voice say in a deep, husky timbre. “My property was sold unfairly, probably illegally.”

“Everything was purchased legally, Lord Snow, and I can prove it.”

The voices lowered, and after a moment of listening to words too muffled to understand, she heard them again, this time louder in tone but softer in urgency as the man tried to reason with her father.

“This has nothing to do with you, Lord Tywin, but if I ever decide to marry, I’d rather she be someone of my choosing, not a daughter of yours I’ve never met.”

“Cersei will give you a smart, sturdy son—”

“That is not the issue here!”

“A man in your position—”

“Listen to me well,” she heard the earl quickly counter in a dangerously subdued voice. “I do not want to wed your daughter. I don’t care how many other worthy noblemen have asked for her hand. I don’t care that she is the loveliest creature this side of the Continent, that she has hair the color of sunshine or eyes the color of emeralds. I care only for my property, and by Gods, you’re going to return it to me fairly. This conversation is finished.”

A long, deadly silence ensued, then she heard her father’s deep growl fill the air. “Perhaps you should take a look at this.”

After precisely fifteen seconds the earl yelled, “Gods!” A fist slammed hard against the desk.

Her father said smugly, “It’s a bill of sale. Come Monday, they’re gone.”

“You can’t do this—”

“I will unless you marry my daughter.”

Then…nothing. Silence.

Cersei’s heart started pounding. For several seconds she couldn’t breathe as the realization hit her like a brick in the face.

This could not be happening. She had plans, she had dreams, she had…thought her father would leave her alone.

Horrified and disoriented, Cersei slumped her shoulders and dragged her body across the hall and into the morning room. Sunlight streamed in through beveled glass to create a peaceful feeling in the lavish decorated room, but it did nothing for her ever-increasing sensation of panic. She sat heavily on the yellow sofa and stared into the cold fireplace, forcing herself to take deep breaths.

She felt shocked. Enraged. Even scared. She swallowed hard to fight back tears, for if nothing else, she needed to keep her wits intact and think things through before her father came out of his study to inform her that he’d chosen her a husband.

The thought made her shiver with revulsion.

Notes: Based on the book "My dear Caroline". English is not my first language.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who read, reviewed and left kudos!! I love hearing what you think of this fic, it means a lot to me!

Cersei Lannister was the first of the twins born to Tywin and Joanna Lannister. She was famously called the most beautiful woman in the entire west continent with long golden curls and green eyes. However, Cersei was one of the few people who were bestowed with the dangerous combination of beauty and brains.

She was smart, exceedingly bright in the areas of mathematics and botany. At the age of four she could calculate numbers, multiplying them two, three, even four times simply with her head, baffling most everyone who knew her, especially because she was female. Females had no business understanding mathematics, even if it came to them naturally, or so she’d often been told.

Cersei, however, without being formally taught, possessed such unspeakable knowledge. By age nine, she could calculate not only numbers, but the age and growth of each plant in her mansion’s garden. She would spend hours with the flowers and greenery, estimating growth patterns, determining ages and variations of color and size with such precision that before she had even reached her twelfth name day, most people, including her loved ones, assumed her to be the strangest girl in England.

At that age she didn’t care what others thought. Her twin, Jaime loved her despite his inability to match her wits. He was slow and hardly capable of reading and writing, his strength lay in arms at hands.

And yet, Tywin Lannister considered Jaime to be his pride, his golden child and the heir to Casterly Rock. Jaime could have anything and everything he wanted and that infuriated Cersei, the fact that had she been fortunate enough to be born a boy, she would have been called gifted and allowed to study in the finest institutions and with the finest instructors in the world. As a girl, she was termed odd and secluded in her home until her father, the great Tywin Lannister, could do something with her.

Cersei slowly stood and walked with wooden legs to the window, crossing her arms over her chest as she stared at the garden where her dreams lay, her flowers bloomed into pinpoints of brightness and brilliant color in the cool, sunny morning. Until only fifteen minutes ago, her world had been joyous, her life rich with beauty. Now her choices, her desires, were melting away like the wax of a burning candle.

She knew she had to think quickly. Now more than ever she would need to call upon her superior intellect if she expected to get herself out of this mess, and if she considered her actions thoroughly, perhaps she could turn the situation around to her advantage.

Cersei was brought out of her reverie as she heard the door to her father’s study slam shut. It indicated the departure of a very angry Earl of Castle Black. She knew it would be only a moment before her father called her in.

She rolled her eyes. Idiot men.

“Cersei!” her father roared seconds later.

She tried to hide her anger as she replied smoothly, “In here, Father.”

He walked briskly into the morning room, seemingly surprised that she was only across the hall; then his eyes grew angry as he looked her up and down.

“Have you been in the ditch, girl?”

Sighing, she noticed the upturned collar and wrinkles on his usually pristine shirt, his mussed hair, and the twitch in his cheek as it made the curls in his gray-brown side whiskers flair. Obviously he and the earl had exchanged more than words.

Men.

Lifting her rosebud to his view, she returned lightly, “I’ve been breeding African lilies and pruning roses—”

“Yes, yes, yes,” he cut in impatiently. “The Earl of Castle Black…”

Cersei placed her hands on her hips and glared at him. “You want me to marry him, don’t you?”

He was plainly taken aback by her keen perception, but he said nothing, giving her a look of what she considered to be a fight between indifference and controlled fury.

“Why, Father?” she quietly asked.

Like a curtain falling on a stage, all expressions left Tywin’s face as he stood erect as a statue and folding his hands behind his back. “You need someone to care for your needs, and you need a husband to give you children—”

“I had a husband, a drunk, whore mongering fool who did not respect us and ran his entire house into debt with his endless partying and melees. You know that,” she interjected fiercely.

He ignored her outburst. “Robert is dead, and you have not outlived your usefulness. How long do you intend to live under your brother’s roof?”

“Jaime does not see me as a burden, father,” Cersei gritted her teeth. “As a matter of fact, I am your firstborn. I think it is he who lives under my roof.”

Continuing as if Cersei had never answered, Tywin said, “Lord Snow is a strong, decent man who would give his life for king and country—”

I’m sure the earl is a fine and noble subject—”

“And he will no doubt provide for you. But most importantly”—he took another deep breath and exhaled loudly—“I won’t allow you to go against my wishes, Cersei.”

After several strained seconds, she whispered, “I won’t go against your wishes.”

“You will marry him or—”

“I will marry him.”

He gaped at her with apparent disbelief, then his eyes narrowed to tiny slits. “If you think to undermine—”

“I agree to the marriage, Father.”

For the first time in his life, Tywin Lannister looked baffled. His skin became pasty white, and his broad shoulders relaxed a bit.

“I want you to know, Cersei,” he ground out, tapping his cuff against his cheek, “that I’ve done this for your future. I want nothing more than happiness for our house.”

Cersei slowly moved toward him. She’d never before seen her father so…disoriented, and the picture he presented unnerved her a little.

“Why do you want this union, Father?” she slowly asked. “Have you something to gain from it?”

He instantly became guarded. “It’s best for you.” Turning to the door, and with one last glance in her direction, he murmured, “Don’t disappoint me, Cersei.”

Before she could summon a reply, he strode into the hall and disappeared from view.

Cersei could have dealt with his threats, his coldness or anger, but never in her life could she have dealt with disappointing him. Fighting tears, she looked to the rose in her hand, the only piece of joy in her miserable life. This was God’s creation. This small, delicate marvel of life was hers to manipulate into a bounty of beauty. It calmed her to know that she had been given such a gift, and she refused to let anything or anybody take it from her. Ever.

As she lay down to sleep that night, Cersei dared a trip down the memory lane. Memory of her marriage to Robert. Once it was clear that Cersei was no ordinary woman, he has made sure to humiliate her in every possible way, from berating her publicly to discarding everything she ever said or asked of him.

Then there was Steffon…

Her beautiful baby that died as soon and he drew his first breath in this cruel world. That pain had been too great and too terrible to bear and Cersei had sworn never again to go down that path. Robert died in a hunting accident and whatever was left of his estate went to the many money lenders that came claiming for their money.

Jaime had brought her back to Casterly Rock and helped pay Robert’s debtors so they would leave her alone. She had finally found peace in her brother’s presence just like they had sought one another when their mother died.

Now, she was thrown another curveball and Cersei only hoped that the plan she had hatched would favor her in the end.

__________________________________________

“Why did you agree to this union?” Jaime stared at his sister in disbelief, “You had all but finalized your plans of travel to America.”

Cersei took a sip of her tea and looked out the window of the dining table where she sat with her twin. Sighing, she turned her attention to Jaime, “Yes, I still have a little time. It is July, I don’t have to be there until January.”

For as long as she could remember, Cersei had wanted to study botanical science with Sir Pycelle at Oxford University, but trying to gain acceptance as a scholar had been the most difficult thing she’d ever attempted in her life. She’d known from an early age that being female was a hindrance, but she’d never expected Sir Pycelle, the greatest man she had ever read, had ever studied, to deny her entrance to Oxford’s Society of Botany strictly because she was female. Only two years ago she’d sent him a comprehensive letter detailing her work, her complete analysis of breeding techniques to create the precious lavender rose, and still he’d rejected her, his condescending letter of response implying she should stay home, marry, and grow flowers for her husband and neighbors to admire.

But from that crushing blow she learned her greatest life lesson—being female got you nothing in the scientific world, but being male gave you a chance. And she would succeed as a scientist, at Columbia University in New York, because she’d been accepted to study there by one of the best, Professor Qyburn. She’d been accepted to study there because this time, when sending her scientific data, computations, and information regarding herself and her experience as a self-taught botanist, she’d wisely presented herself as a man, Mr. C. Lannister. Being a woman would never stop her again.

Or so it seemed until now.

“Are you completely mad? Until today, our two biggest problems had been finding lodging once you arrived in New York, and persuading Professor Qyburn to allow you to study with him and his colleagues when he discovers you are a woman. Now you want to have to deal with the issue of marriage, of all the blessed things,” Jaime almost shouted.

Cersei raised her eyes to look back out the window, sighing as she lowered her forehead to the cup. Then all of a sudden she grinned and looked at Jaime, “I don’t want a husband but so what! If I married the earl, I would be fulfilling father’s wish and then I could, after that time, put all of my talents and intelligence to good use by creating a way of leaving my _husband_ to study science. He wouldn’t want me anyway, for I know that he too is being coerced into taking me as a wife as well, and I certainly don’t have anything wifely to offer him.”

Jaime slowly nodded, catching on Cersei’s plan, “If he is smart, perhaps you could strike a deal with him, and both of you go separate ways as did many married couples. If the marriage were annulled in say…four months, you would be able to leave him to a life of his own, catch a ship to New York, and be free from society’s demanding, irritating mores to do as you wanted—needed—to do.”

This was the way out. And it was falling into her lap. Cersei stood up and fairly twirled around in glee and hugged her brother, “You are the only one who has always been there for me and that is why I love you so much.”

“Yes, yes but don’t get ahead of yourself. You still have a long way to go and..”

Cersei raised her hand to stop him talking, “I know, but this will work out. This time I will not be the stupid little girl I was with Robert. This time the world is for my taking.”

Her twin raised his cup with the cocky smile only he could pull off, “To my sweet sister.”

Cersei raised her own cup, “To us!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up next on Wednesday-
> 
> His gaze slowly, inappropriately, traveled down, then up the length of her body, until his eyes met hers once again, his expression completely unreadable. “I wasn’t expecting someone quite so old.”
> 
> Cersei was not expecting this, and the strangeness of his manner almost startled her. Almost. With a deep exhalation, she held his gaze and retorted sarcastically, “I wasn’t expecting someone quite so skinny.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all the kudos and comments! I love reading your thoughts. All the information on flowers and botany have been copied or made up as I have no knowledge of them.

Cersei looked at the freshly plucked rose in her hand, it was far more exciting than the situation she had found herself in at the moment. It appeared her future husband wanted to meet her alone, and that was fine with her. She prided herself on being independent and self-assured, and she knew that if nothing else, she would be able to handle the man with her superior intelligence. That thought in mind, she put her hand on the knob and marched into her father’s study.

She was surprised to find the earl staring out a window rather than watching for her, and although he had to have heard her enter, he didn’t turn but stayed instead with his back to her, legs spread apart, hands on hips as he regarded the grassy meadow outside with apparent interest.

She waited for him to speak first, knowing that the man was probably trying to decide how he should gently ask her to marry him without prior introduction. Then he cut into her thoughts of growing annoyance with a frigid baritone voice.

“I’ll assume you’re not with a child?”

Cersei was so completely caught off guard by his bold, harsh words, that she didn’t know how to respond. Cheeks flushing, she mumbled, “I beg your pardon?”

“You heard me,” he replied evenly, still looking out the window.

His audacity sparked her anger. Closing her arms over her chest and gathering her wits she returned boldly, “I heard you, Lord Snow. I was simply unsure whether you were asking a question or posing a statement.”

Slowly, he turned to look at her. She kept her eyes locked on his features with complete determination, noticing first his hollow cheeks, his almost haunted expression. His eyes were grey, his jaw hard and square, and his hair messy dark curls tucked behind his ears to fall to his collar. He wore dark riding breeches and a light cotton shirt, opened in front just enough to indecently expose a scattering of curls on his broad chest, and he looked somehow as if he’d been riding for days. His attire and appearance were most unbecoming and far too casual for a gentleman caller. No manners, apparently.

With a little added weight and proper clothing, he would probably be quite handsome in a rather unconventional way. Now he simply appeared tired and just as wary as she.

His gaze slowly, inappropriately, traveled down, then up the length of her body, until his eyes met hers once again, his expression completely unreadable. “I wasn’t expecting someone quite so old.”

Cersei was not expecting this, and the strangeness of his manner almost startled her. Almost. With a deep exhalation, she held his gaze and retorted sarcastically, “I wasn’t expecting someone quite so skinny.”

She noticed the immediate sign of anger as his jaw tightened considerably, although her eyes never wavered from his. Then his mouth abruptly changed to a knowing smirk. “Your father said you have a saucy tongue.”

“And did my father also say I have a life of my own and no wish to be married?”

His smile vanished. “That’s irrelevant—”

“Irrelevant to whom?”

He regarded her for a moment, then carried on as if her words were completely insignificant.

“Banns will be posted tomorrow, and we’ll be married in three weeks’ time. I would, of course, prefer you to not be with a child. Since I have no choice in the matter, I will take you ruined, with the condition that…..”

Cersei could not believe her ears and was suddenly filled with outrage. Clenching her fists tightly at her sides, she slowly began to move toward him. “Shall I hang the poor child by his toenails and leave him for the wolves to maul, perhaps?”

That truly seemed to startle him. “You know that’s not what I meant,” he responded quietly, defensively.

“Then maybe,” she continued with absolute intolerance, “if I’m not requesting too much, you’ll ask me to marry you in a gentlemanly fashion instead of coining phrases such as ‘I’ll assume you’re a not with a child,’ and ‘I’ll take you ruined with conditions.’”

His cheek twitched, his lids narrowed, but he didn’t budge or move his gaze from her face.

“I haven’t the vaguest idea of how to fill your head with words of sweetness, so let me say only this, Lady Lannister.” His voice was low, hard. “I despise the notion of marriage to someone about whom I know nothing. I have very specific situations in my life that require my full concentration, and I don’t need that concentration interrupted by a weeping female clinging to my arm and begging for attention. I cannot afford trinkets, or fancy clothing, or endless parties. I cannot afford imported Spanish tapestries, or Bavarian chocolates—”

“I don’t need chocolates,” she cut in defensively.

He took a step toward her, and she instinctively took one back.

Suddenly his face lost all expression as he once again studied her appearance. “Actually, I’m rather surprised you’re not jumping at this opportunity, my lady. I’m sure you’ll not be getting any other offers.”

Cersei was so shocked by his manner that she simply gaped at him, but after a moment’s hesitation on her part, her eyes still locked with his, she decided he was simply another idiot man who undoubtedly thought himself smarter than she. She would eventually prove him incorrect in his assumptions, and that thought alone made her smile to herself.

Sighing heavily, anger subsiding, she dropped her gaze and abruptly turned her back to him, moving to sit in a large leather chair across from the desk. She leaned her head back against the soft cushion, placed her rose in her lap and closed her eyes.

“What’s that?” he asked seconds later.

She peeked out cautiously through lowered lashes, noticing proudly that he had placed his curious gaze on her flower. She smiled in satisfaction and raised the rose to study it in front of her face.

“This, my lord, is a five-parted, usually fragrant flower, characteristically having alternate compound leaves and prickly stems. In Latin it’s called a rosa, in Greek it’s akin to rhodon, and in English—”

“A rose…by any other name?”

She found his mocking tone abrasive and demeaning. Since he would no doubt be utterly confused by the complexities of botany and plant breeding, she instead gave him what she hoped was a glare to remember and tried to change the subject.

“May I ask why you’re willing to marry me if you believe I’m ruined?”

He was quiet for a moment, then expelled a long breath and slowly walked toward her, all thoughts of the flower in her hand apparently forgotten.

“I learned only a week ago that your father purchased some of my property and I want it back, whatever the cost,” he replied arrogantly as he sat in the chair across from hers. “It now looks as if I’ll have to marry you to get it, ruined or chaste.”

Trying her best not to be shocked by the distaste in his words, Cersei finally wanted to give sauce to the goose. The man was unbelievable. “Do all the ladies find you as charming as I do, Snow?”

He had the good graces to at least look surprised.

“You find me charming, my lady? I wasn’t trying to be charming.” Then, before she could remark on his ridiculous words, he cocked his head and looked at her with the first hint of actual interest.

“I’d heard of you, when you were married to Robert. He was uncle stark’s good friend.”

She stared into his eyes, wondering just what gossip did he hear of her.

“I, uh, know about his rather not so conventional habits,” Jon looked uncomfortable.

Cersei swiped her tongue across her teeth, before baring it at him, “Ned Stark called himself honourable, tell me this, what honourable men keep the company of pigs?”

Jon remained silent.

They stayed silent for some time. Cersei concluded that Jon did know of her, probably more than he was letting on. Obviously the man had little money or was indeed foul-tempered, else more ladies than she could name would be eagerly begging for his attentions. No wonder he’d agreed to marry her. He needed her dowry, which happened to include his former possessions. Quite convenient, actually.

Understanding the situation at last, she smiled and asked rather lightly, “Does it help that my hair is the color of sunshine and my eyes the color of emeralds, my lord?”

He almost laughed. She could see it in the darkness of his eyes. Then he seemed to catch himself.

“Do you make a habit of sticking your pert little nose into the conversations of others, Cersei?”

She dropped her gaze to her rose, suddenly unnerved by the smooth, deep, almost intimate way her given name quite naturally rolled off his tongue.

Forcing herself to be bold, she retorted, “I truly don’t think I was sticking my pert little nose into a conversation undoubtedly heard by everyone at Lannisport six miles away.”

She looked at him again. He was watching her closely, sort of…amused, she guessed, which in turn made her feel even more uncomfortable, for the man wasn’t three feet from her. Close enough to touch. She stopped herself.

“To answer your question,” he confessed blandly, straightening, once again reserved, “what matters to me is that I get my property, which was wrongfully sold to your father, back into my possession. If I have to marry to do that, then so be it. Your father strikes a very hard bargain, Lady Cersei, but if you must know, I care more than you can imagine about my home and belongings, and absolutely nothing about the color of your hair.”

He was just so utterly blunt. Cersei had never met a man like him, for most gentlemen of quality liked to caress a lady with flowery words aimed at seducing. She would know, she was extremely beautiful even now in her late thirties. Jon was simply unusual, or he found her so unbearably unattractive that he refused to speak with even a semblance of charm. She needed to remember that she really didn’t care. She had a life of her own, with or without a husband.

Cersei gazed at the man indifferently. “Then since we are both being forced into this, I have only one request from you, my lord.”

His lips twitched. “And what might that be?”

The way he spoke to her, watched her, made her nervousness grow to the point where she found herself lowering her lashes to look to her lap. “I work with plants and would like to continue—”

“Many ladies garden,” he cut in impatiently, standing abruptly, his manner and voice, without provocation, becoming cold and severe. “And from the look of that wilted thing in your hand, I certainly appreciate your need of practice if you intend to make gardening a pastime. You’ll never impress anyone with a rose so badly grown it comes out two shades of purple.”

“It’s lavender fading to purple,” she seethed. “I did this on purpose—”

“In any case,” he continued, ignoring her indignation as he reached for his overcoat, “I really don’t care what you do with your spare time, although I am expecting you to comply with your wifely duties. My house is in need of an heir, and after you’ve seen to those needs, you may do as you like. I’m sure at your age, you understand my meaning.”

She looked at him in astonishment, eyes wide with disbelief, cheeks flaming from his sheer boldness. The man was despicably rude and indecent, and if it weren’t for the fact that he was her passage to Columbia University, she would slap the earl’s face, turn her back on him, and walk out of his life with good riddance. She couldn’t, however, and that knowledge made her nearly shake with fury as she watched him turn and walk swiftly to the door.

Once again, as with all things in a lady’s life, the men won.

Consumed with rage, and with every intent to shock him, she blurted, “I suppose being raised as a bastard, you would not know how to speak with a lady. I’ll have you know that I am not like most ladies.”

He turned to look at her again, and once more his eyes slowly traveled down, then up her body and back to her face. After a moment he whispered thickly, “After meeting you, Cersei, I really don’t care.”

That statement made, he turned and walked out of the room, leaving her to stare at his departing back in pure shock while she slowly, without awareness, crushed her beautiful rose to a pulp in the palm of her hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming up next Wednesday-
> 
> Jon smiled reassuringly. “I’ll admit it’s been a while since I’ve been with a woman, but I think I’ll remember how to perform well enough to satisfy you, my lady.”  
> She didn’t say anything, just kept her gaze locked with his. Then she moved dangerously close to him and whispered, “You don’t touch me, until I say you can.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the comments and kudos. They motivate me to keep going.

Once again, Jon Snow found himself completely and craftily defeated. Only five days ago he’d returned home from war at Winterfell, after months of living hell, expecting to be welcomed by waiting servants, to eat platters full of delectable foods, to take his horses for long rides of peaceful enjoyment over his land, to sleep again in his large, plush bed.

Instead, he’d found the shock of his life. His treasured home, Castle Black, had been utterly neglected to the point of ruin, its interior possessions sold so that his house was nothing but a hollow shell, his servants gone, the stables in shambles. But the most devastating of all was the discovery that his prized beauties, his cherished Arabians, had been peddled off like swine to Tywin Lannister, the cunning nobleman of Casterly Rock, who would actually force a marriage to his brassy, widowed daughter for their return.

He would kill Theon Greyjoy for that, assuming that he hadn’t already fled the country.

Jon mounted the only horse he now owned and began the long ride back to what remained of Castle Black. He was anxious and exhausted, and the sky was turning gray. It would be raining before he arrived—pouring fiercely, with his luck. The perfect weather to fit his mood.

For the entirety of his childhood, he had been known as the honourable Ned Stark’s bastard son. Once he had come of age, Ned had taken him aside and told him of his true parentage. He was the love child of a nobleman Rhaeghar Targaryen and Ned’s sister Lyanna Stark.

Alas, their love was shortlived as his parents perished in a fire. Jon had survived as he had crawled into the fields chasing after a bunny. Later it was found that his uncle Viserys had called for his parents murder and therefore Ned had announced Jon as his bastard son, should his uncle try to harm Jon.

With Viserys dead and no surviving relatives, Ned had told him the truth and had given him whatever possessions was left of the Targaryens.

Life was one long journey of unfairness, and suddenly he had the irresistible urge to choke that journey out of Tywin Lannister. The man was clever, but this was a means to an end Jon couldn’t understand. Why would he want to rid himself of his widowed daughter? She couldn’t be that much trouble except, of course, for her impudent mouth.

Jon had weathered decades of vanity, selfishness, coldness, and deceit from the women in his life, and had risen above it. Then there had been the painful rejection of a past love. Now, he was especially wary of the Lannisters. The Starks considered them selfish and cruel.

Cersei Lannister had bothered him, she was the most beautiful woman Jon had ever laid his eyes on, but beauty was hardly important to him. But that was not all, she was unusual and far too assertive for a lady of quality. In fact, to his complete annoyance, the moment she started speaking in that husky, sexy voice of hers, his body had sprung to life, and he couldn’t remember the last time that had happened.

That scared him.

All he cared right now was to get back his possessions, start to forget the war, restore his home to its former magnificence, and move on with his life, as he was in desperate want of doing. Other than that, he would consent to her doing as she pleased, for she truly meant nothing more to him than the means to retrieve his cherished horses.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Cersei’s wedding to Jon Snow, during one of the wettest, coldest days so far that summer, proved to be an unspectacular, incredibly dreary event for all of them, especially for her. As she stepped out from his coach into a sprinkling twilight rain, facing her new home on the Castle Black estate, Cersei knew she was living a nightmare.

Before her stood a massive building surrounded by unbelievable disarray. It was three stories in height and constructed out of old, gray brick. Trees had been planted around the house to frame the approach from the road, but there were no flowers or plants, much less landscaping. A dozen stone steps led to the huge front door, but they were so covered with weeds and dead vegetation she could barely find a suitable path on which to walk.

Lifting her skirts, she started climbing them, and although she stepped carefully, by the time she reached the top her satin wedding slippers were covered with grass and mud.

Jon followed her, speaking hesitantly. “I’ve been working on the stables and the inside for the last three weeks so you wouldn’t be so completely shocked when you arrived, my lady. I’ll soon begin out here.”

She opened her mouth to say something, but no words came out of her. Then she walked through the tall oaken door and knew she had never heard a more erroneous statement in her life. The inside was much worse—stripped bare, deserted, and smelling as if it hadn’t been cleaned in centuries.

Cersei looked around, feeling awkward and unsure in only her husband’s presence. He must have noticed it, for he relaxed a little as he moved to stand beside her.

“I’ll walk you around so you’ll become more comfortable with your surroundings,” he said quietly. “Then we’ll talk.”

Cersei wanted to turn around and go back to the rock, instead she nodded and glanced up to his face. Wisps of dark black hair curled around his ears, lightly touching his collar, and his mouth, soft and full, slowly turned up in a smile.

He looked amazingly different from their initial meeting, and his attractiveness caught her a little off guard. His hair had been trimmed, his skin had become bronzed from days in the sun, and his body had filled out as he’d apparently decided to eat.

And to his credit, he had been a gentleman throughout their wedding ceremony, and for that she was relieved. Jon had kept his attention focused solely on her from the time she walked down the aisle to the time he solidified the agreement by kissing her gently on the lips at the end of the ceremony.

And now, gazing at the hardness of his jaw in contrast with the smoothness of his skin sent a shiver through her body. She could feel the warmth of his large, muscular form penetrating her own, and the knowledge that he would be this close to her for an uncertain period of time truly disturbed her.

Cersei drew a determined breath, gave him a shaky smile, slowly she walked across the entrance hall, concluding that she indeed had her work cut out for her, for it was a filthy, dust-covered mess. She concluded that Castle Black had once been a beautiful home. Now all that remained was the shell of a memory.

“The only room I really spend much time in right now is my study,” her husband said at last as they stood once again in the entryway. He pointed to his left, then reached down and took hold of her hand.

She flinched from the contact.

“It’s all right, Cersei,” he soothed lightly. “I won’t bite.”

Smiling hesitantly, she clasped his fingers with her palm and walked by his side into the study.

It was fairly large, depicting at least a feeling of life on the premises, being cozy and smelling faintly of tobacco. The desk was piled high with paperwork, and suddenly she found herself curious as to what her new husband did with his time.

“Are there any servants, my lord?” she asked casually.

“My name is Jon, Cersei,” he returned flatly, dropping her hand. “Since we’re now married, you may call me that.”

She ignored the urge to roll her eyes, bewildered as to how he wanted her to respond, then she replied just as blandly, “Of course, Jon.”

He turned to face her fully. “I do not have any servant. Your brother was very kind to offer to send Bernadette to live with us. I am yet to take him up on his offer. Davos Seaworth and three additional grooms run my stables.”

He glanced away from her to remove his topcoat, placing it over the back of the settee. “I’ll be leaving in a few days to attend to some personal business; then I’ll look for others or the ones who were here before.”

She took on a voice of contempt. “You have four people running your stables and no one running your household?”

He turned back to her, folding his arms across his chest. “As you can see, I have no household, and Davos has been kind enough to cook for us. That means, I’m afraid, it will be bread, cheese, and fruit for both of us until I can find someone else to do it.”

“Lucky me,” Cersei finally rolled her eyes before looking back at Jon. Her eyes melded with his, then her heart began to race as he leaned so close her senses could detect the faint traces of soap and something…musky. Masculine. For a second she was terrified he would kiss her.

His voice deepened. “Can you ride, Cersei?”

“Of course I can ride,” she admitted, surprised, “although I haven’t in some time.” She clasped her elbows with her palms, instinctively protecting herself from his unbearable closeness.

“I don’t suppose you can cook, though, can you?” he almost whispered, slowly raising his hand to run his thumb across her exposed collarbone.

The brazen action made her jump. “No.”

“No?” His voice grew deeper and thicker as he continued to caress her skin. “Then what else can you do?”

She shrugged, lowering her lashes to stare at the center of his chest. “I…plant things.”

“Hmm…gardening again.” He raised both hands to rest them atop her shoulders, starting a slow massage of her bare skin. Smoothly he continued to massage her shoulders, growing anxious to touch her more suggestively. He had to conclude that his sudden desire for his new wife was strictly due to his prolonged state of celibacy, and that he finally had a woman to lawfully bed at his leisure.

Her wedding gown was made of ice-blue silk flowing loosely to her ankles, but the bodice fit low and snugly across her deliciously, now noticeably ample breasts. With her hair loosely wrapped in pearls and pinned on top of her head, soft curls framing her face, he could hardly keep himself from freeing the dark, silky tresses to fall down her back.

He closed his eyes and slowly lowered his head to brush her lips with his. Jon coaxed, teased, toyed with her mouth until at last her resistance gave way to his gentle urging, and as he flicked his tongue back and forth across her tightly closed lips, she slowly started to open to him.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered raggedly against her mouth.

Cersei raised her hand and planted it firmly at his chest before pushing away from him to put some distance between them, “Do you have wine?” she said looking around the room.

Jon regarded her carefully, so ready for her that his body ached against the tightness of his breeches. After a minute of strained stillness, he inhaled deeply and began to walk toward her.

She turned her face up to his.

He smiled reassuringly. “I’ll admit it’s been a while since I’ve been with a woman, but I think I’ll remember how to perform well enough to satisfy you, my lady.”

She didn’t say anything, just kept her gaze locked with his. Then she moved dangerously close to him and whispered, “You don’t touch me, until I say you can.”

Her statement stopped him dead. “Did I do something wrong?”

“You have no love for me,” she stated nonchalantly.

Of course he didn’t, and she knew that, which made her words even more unusual. “Cersei, we’ve only known each other for one day—”

“I don’t love you either, so don’t touch me,” she cut in sharply as her eyes shot back to his. “You have my permission to satisfy your needs elsewhere.”

Love was a physical sensation, which had been proven to him conclusively one dark, rainy afternoon three years ago when he’d found Ygritte, a woman who had claimed to love him beyond life, packing her bags to leave him. He had begged her to stay but she had wanted nothing to do with him. At that moment he knew that love was nothing more than a word said to manipulate others.

He could accept it in his marriage as well, for realistically, he should feel nothing special for Cersei.

But now, as the idea engulfed him with a burning desire he didn’t fully understand, he wanted a son. If he and Cersei went their separate ways emotionally, it mattered naught to him as long as she gave him a son who would respect him, perhaps grow to admire him, to whom he could leave his title, his. If nothing else, she owed him that. And wasn’t that what her father had said?

“I have only two things to say to you, Lady Cersei,” he fairly whispered, his voice hard as granite. “The first is that I would never, under any conditions, force a woman to have sex with me.”

He paused to watch her face turn as white as winter snowfall.

“The second is that although you may take a liberal view of married life, I don’t. I have made a commitment to you, said my vows to you and I take them seriously and upon my honour. I fully intend to consummate this marriage, and I will not disrespect you or this marriage by having a mistress in my bed.”

He turned and walked swiftly toward the door. “Please allow me to show you to your room.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up next-  
> “You’re leaving?” Cersei blurted.
> 
> He turned to her and grinned. “Are you going to miss me, Cersei?”
> 
> She huffed. The man must dramatically overestimate his importance in her life.


	5. Chapter 5

Cersei sat at the kitchen table, a mug of strong tea in her hands. It wasn’t yet seven, and already she’d spent two hours in her new garden.

This was now her routine at Castle Black, as it had been at home. She would work while the ground was moist and soft, then take a break for breakfast, then move to the greenhouse during the day. The trouble, however, was that Castle Black had no greenhouse, which was something she needed to discuss with her husband.

Cersei took a long sip of the hot brew and eyed the two other inhabitants in the kitchen. Davos sat across from her at the small oak table, while Bernadette scurried about the kitchen, her frizzy hair flying around her face as she hunted for suitable foodstuffs.

“Eggs for you this morning, my lady?” Bernadette asked with a smile.

Straightening, she answered pleasantly, “I don’t think so, Bernadette. Perhaps just toast.”

“Toast it is.”

Bernadette turned her back on them to slice the bread.

It seemed to Cersei that she spent more time with Davos and Bernadette than she did with her husband. After the row they’d had the day of their wedding, they both seemed hesitant to be near each other. She’d said some cruel things that afternoon, but they were words that had to be said, and better to get them said quickly and without pretense. He apparently now understood, for her husband of five days had spoken fewer than as many words to her.

Although modest in furnishings, her room was also lovely with bright yellow lace curtains, two yellow reading chairs across from each other and next to the fireplace, a small dressing table, and a comfortable bed covered with a quilt of peach lace. The floor was noticeably bare, needing rugs for warmth and atmosphere, and those she wanted to add as soon as possible.

Perhaps requesting them from her ever-distant husband would crack the ice barrier between them, for he had rugs on the floor of his bedchamber, as she’d briefly seen. She probably shouldn’t have, but to satisfy her curiosity, she’d sneaked into his room just yesterday to take in the surroundings, finding furnishings as simple and sparse as hers although decorated with the masculine flavor of rich mahogany and deep royal blue. Their private quarters were separated by only one wall and a small, nonlocking door. He also had a much bigger bed, but she refused to consider something that was none of her concern.

“I dunno, ma’am…” Davos drawled, teasing. “Seems a fine lady like yourself needs some meat on her bones. You’re too skinny as it is.”

Cersei gave him a hard stare, for she was hardly skinny.

“My thoughts exactly,” Bernadette agreed, searching for butter. “I think I’ll scramble a few anyway, in case his lordship is hungry this morn.”

Cersei grunted. If his lordship actually ever awakened before noon, he certainly never made his presence known.

Davos took a sip of tea, sitting back to regard her. “So how are you settlin’ in at Castle Black, Lady Cersei?”

She smiled to his dark, weathered face, but instead of answering his question, she asked another. “You used to be a sailor, have you ever been to New York?”

He frowned in contemplation. “Well…I shipped out from there thirty-two years ago, but don’t remember much.”

“How long have you been here?” Cersei drained the rest of her tea.

“I have been with Jon for the past five years, taught his lordship all he knows.”

Cersei looked at him with a raised eyebrow. “All he knows about what?”

That flustered him. “All he knows about horses.”

“My husband is a horseman?”

Davos laughed outright. “Ain’t love grand.”

She felt her cheeks color.

“What exactly do you know about your husband, Lady Cersei?” he asked seconds later.

Warily, she replied, “Very little, really.”

“Why don’t you ask ’im?”

“Ask him?”

Davos snickered. “Ask your husband about his past, his motives and ambitions. I think you’ll find it interestin’.”

“So this is what I miss each morning.”

Cersei abruptly turned to the door. Her husband stood casually against it, hair mussed, his wrinkled linen shirt half-tucked into tight breeches. He was watching her as well, scrutinizing her strangely, making her pulse race.

“You’re just in time for breakfast, my lord,” Bernadette chimed in. “Come sit.”

Cersei thought he might make excuses to escape either her or the unpalatable meal. But he surprised her by rubbing his eyes and slowly walking toward them, taking the seat to her right at the table.

“Tea?” Cersei asked a bit too sweetly. The only time they spoke to each other was at meals, although until just now the only meal they had taken together was dinner each night.

“Tea would be wonderful,” he returned too politely.

She gave him a long, level look. Then, ushered for Bernadette to bring some.

“You look like you been tossed from hell to breakfast, my boy,” Davos said, amused.

Jon leaned back in his chair. “I didn’t get to bed until nearly two, but I have things to take care of today. When is the next horsefeed due?”

“Eighteenth of March.” Davos frowned. “We have many days until then.”

“Exactly two hundred and twenty-four,” Cersei answered nonchalantly as Bernadette placed Jon’s tea on the table and moved away to serve eggs.

Davos looked up sharply. Jon gaped at her, amazed, and at first quite certain she’d made up a number to throw back at him. But something compelled him to quickly add the months and days together, and although it took him several moments to do so, he knew her figure was probably accurate. 

“Remarkable…” he said lightly.

“So anyways I leave tomorrow,” Jon continued without interruption, “I’ll start looking for servants and taking care of personal business. I won’t be gone long.”

“You’re leaving?” Cersei blurted.

He turned to her and grinned. “Are you going to miss me, Cersei?”

She huffed. The man must dramatically overestimate his importance in her life.

Casually he took a sip of his tea and changed the subject. “So what have you been doing with your time?”

She quickly glanced to her mug, tracing a pattern around the rim with her finger. “I’ve been working in the garden.”

“Ahh…of course.”

“A good job she’s done, too,” Davos added.

Cersei beamed.

“Really? Did you plant a flower for me, my lady?”

“No,” she said curtly.

“It’s a good thing,” he replied softly, “because I’m quite sure it would wilt away and die.”

Jon smiled into his cup of tea and that threw Cersei into a mild rage.

“Nothing in my care ever dies from neglect, husband,” she confided in a husky whisper. “My plants will be the loveliest you’ll ever see as they grow and become strong. Within weeks, every room at Castle Black will be filled with creations that I nurture and bring to life.”

“Including our children?”

She sat back abruptly, her eyes widening as he turned her serious, passionate words to something intimate.

“My plants are my children,” she bravely retorted.

He grinned devilishly. “But I guarantee that our son will be much more fun to create.”

Cersei refused to back down from his insolent male innuendos. “How would you know, husband? Have you created a son from another entanglement?”

Bernadette drew a sharp breath.

Davos chuckled. “This oughta be grand.”

Cersei kept her eyes locked with her husband’s, waiting for his rebuttal.

Finally Jon laughed softly. “An entanglement, Cersei? Is that what you’d call our relationship?”

She fidgeted. “One could call a marriage of convenience an entanglement, I suppose.”

He spoke again cheerfully. “Then I’m quite certain I have no child from a former entanglement, Cersei.”

“Breakfast?” Bernadette interrupted sweetly, placing a plate of mush and burned bread before each of them.

Jon stared at his food. They needed a cook right away.

\-------------------------------------------

Jon grew up with the status of a bastard so the thought of eating what was supposed to be breakfast at a small wooden table with the housekeeper and the man who took care of the horses was very normal to him. He was pleasantly surprised when Cersei was unbothered by it as well. The daughter of the great Tywin Lannister was born and raised in luxury one could only dream of and yet here she was sitting together with the rest of the household.

In many different ways, he was slowly finding, she was refreshingly unique.

Ignoring her for the last week had been unbelievably difficult. He’d tried to escape her presence by working, riding, poring over his books, repairing some of the damage to his property, and still he couldn’t free himself of his frustration.

He had a wife who refused to be touched by him. Jon was convinced that it had something to do with Robert, which would explain her reluctance, even fear of what was to prove to be the only truly enjoyable aspect of married life. Because of his newfound understanding, Jon admonished himself to take things slowly.

He glanced at her from the corner of his eye, watching her toy with her food. She was frowning slightly and clothed in a grey gown and although she had a smudge of mud across her cheek and her golden, thick hair tied into the tightest knot he had ever seen at the base of her neck, she looked incredibly appealing.

Jon suddenly attacked his food. “I’ll be leaving at sunup tomorrow,” he said coolly between bites. “I should be home within the week, but I’d like you to sleep in the house, Davos. I don’t want the women alone.”

Davos nodded.

“And Cersei,” he said after taking a swallow of tea, “I have work to do now but I’d like us to talk before I leave.”

Without waiting for a reply, he stood abruptly, walked with dishes in hand to the sink, then turned to her.

“I would like for you to wear your hair down around the house,” he ordered casually.

Cersei’s eyes narrowed to tiny slits. “I cannot fathom why it matters to you how I wear my hair.” She slowly stood to match the level of his gaze. “I prefer it this way because if it is not pulled tightly from my face, it gets into my eyes.”

“I do not,” Jon articulated slowly, looking directly into her eyes, “and I’m your husband and the master of the house.”

“Oh, you’re the master of—”

“You do have pretty hair, Lady Cersei,” Davos interjected smoothly. “It’s a shame you wrap it all up like that.”

Jon could see her anger building. In some odd, probably not too honorable way, he enjoyed unnerving her. It was a marvelous game.

“I suppose you’ll tell me next I should garden in something more feminine, maybe pearls and silk evening wear?”

He almost laughed, thinking that nothing at all could be more feminine than the garment she wore clinging to every curve of her body. She glared at him, her expression fuming, cheeks bright and pink. It took everything in him to keep his features neutral, for she looked positively adorable when she was mad at him.

“I cannot afford pearls and silk evening wear unlike your lord father, I’m afraid,” he countered indifferently. His eyes lingered momentarily on her figure, then he gestured toward her gown with his hands. “You do look very lovely in that.”

She pulled back from the suggestiveness of his stare, boldly lifted her skirts, and marched out into the open air.

Davos chuckled. Bernadette grinned. Jon ignored them both and strode to the door through which he’d entered earlier.

“I’m going riding,” he said wearily as he turned and left the room.

“I thought his lordship intended to work,” Bernadette remarked nonchalantly.

Davos beamed. “My boy is smitten.”

“Indeed he is,” Bernadette agreed, “and so is she.”

“You think so?”

She nodded, then leaned toward him to say impishly, “And I’m going to enjoy every single minute of watching them fight it.”

Davos laughed and raised his cup in a mock toast. “And so the fun begins.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello peeps!
> 
> Thank you for all your comments and kudos! I love you all!

Chapter 6

Cersei fidgeted with her hair. True, she always preferred to wear her hair down, but ever since Jon demanded it of her, she felt even more compelled to tie it up. Tying her hair in a ribbon, she sauntered off to Jon’s office.

“I’m here. I took so long because I needed to…um…find a hair ribbon.”

Jon looked up from where he sat at his desk, arms resting on each side of his ledger as he slowly thumbed through the pages. Cersei stood against the door wearing a silk lime-green day gown with a low rounded neckline, which more than adequately revealed her abundant cleavage. Her golden hair was loosely tied at her nape while soft curls framed her cheeks, now flushed and dewy soft from the warmth of a bath.

He quickly looked back to his ledger. “Thank you for coming.”

“Well, you asked,” she said rather loudly, slowly moving toward him. After a long, still moment, she asked sheepishly, “Do you think you could tell me what happened here, Jon?”

He glanced at her, puzzled.

She looked around and opened her arms wide. “I mean Castle Black. What happened?”

He kept his eyes locked with hers, his features neutral. “I left to go north for a personal matter several months ago, leaving castle black in the care of my friend Theon. I had every intention of returning last spring, but without warning I was forced to stay in Winterfell. When I returned last month, I discovered that Theon had sold everything I owned, without my knowledge or approval, to pay his gambling debts.”

“Why were you in Winterfell?” she mildly asked.

Almost impatiently, he replied, “I was with my cousin Sansa fighting Ramsay Bolton at Winterfell.”

Cersei’s eyes opened wide with surprise. He’d said the words so matter-of-factly, with so little feeling, that if she hadn’t been watching she would have missed how his expression betrayed his composure. It had changed just enough for her to notice the slightest trace of well-hidden pain, and he tightened his jaw to keep that emotion in check.

Now she understood why he’d appeared so thin and haunted when they’d first met, his underlying anger, why his manner was so direct. Everyone had heard of the very cruel Ramsay Bolton, he was a very well despised man. Her new husband had been at war with this creature, and she could think of nothing to say in response to his statement.

Quickly he straightened and stood, lowering his gaze to his desk, once again casual, composed. “I need you to look at this.”

“Of course,” she murmured without thinking, slowly walking to stand beside him.

“I’d like you to glance over these numbers to see if I’ve made any mistakes in my calculations, Cersei.”

He smiled faintly. “I’d appreciate a level head other than my own to check these figures once more, since I need to know the exact status of my accounts before I leave. Not only do we need servants, but I’d like to start refurnishing Castle Black as well.”

She was stunned. “You—you’re asking me to look through your finances?”

He lowered his voice and leaned very close to her. “Technically I suppose they’re your finances, too.”

Cersei absolutely could not believe that he was asking this of her, and were it not for the fact that he was practically thrusting the ledger into her hands, she would have never believed his request.

“Are you sure?” She glanced to his face, now only inches from hers, hoping to God he wasn’t toying with her, for a joke like this would crush her spirit.

He stepped aside and ushered her to his desk.

“Go ahead, Cersei,” he insisted, gently pushing her into his chair. He took a pen from the inkwell, placed it in her hands, then swiftly moved to take the seat across from her to watch through narrowed eyes.

Suddenly Cersei knew this was a huge, complicated, chance-of-a-lifetime test of her abilities, and strangely, she wanted to impress. Slowly she lowered her eyes to the paper in front of her.

Jon observed her closely as she hesitantly started to work. She turned the pages quickly, moving through the ledger with such incredible speed that for a while he was convinced she wasn’t taking him seriously. But as he watched her chew her bottom lip, her face contorting with furious thinking, he realized this was something she actually enjoyed doing, and she hadn’t used the pen even once. She was calculating mathematical equations and multiplying several large numbers using nothing but her mind. It was truly remarkable.

Finally she looked up, eyes sparkling. “You’ve made a ghastly mistake, Jon,” she whispered. 

That surprised him. “Oh?”

She sobered a little. “Look what you’ve done here.”

She motioned for him to move closer, and he slowly stood and walked around to her side of the desk.

“See right here? You multiplied by three instead of three hundred. You didn’t carry your zeros.” She met his eyes, her lips curled up in delight. “I think we have quite a bit more money than you first thought.”

He looked at her amused. “You discovered this using only your head?”

The smile died on her face. “It just comes naturally to me,” she said cautiously.

He was quiet for a moment, then sighed. “It has never come naturally to me. I don’t trust bailiffs, and taking care of the books has always been my least favorite chore. From this moment on, I’d like you to see to it. Naturally, I’ll need to continue dealing with my banker regarding payments made on my accounts, but I’d like you to keep track of the money. You’ve a marvelous talent, Cersei. It should be used.”

She blinked, incredulous. “You mean permanently? Month to month?”

“Of course I mean permanently, and I’ll need you to start right away. I’ve almost completed repairs on the stables, but some of the weather damage inside was greater than anticipated. I’ll need to know the exact amount I can spend to get things running smoothly, since I’d like to start breeding again next season.”

She shook her head, dazed. “Breeding…horses?”

He looked at her strangely. “It’s what I do, Cersei. I breed, show, and sell Arabian horses. I don’t have the time or patience to keep my finances in line, so I’d like it to be one of your duties.” He paused. “Do you mind?”

Slowly she smiled in wonder. “You trust me with this?”

He touched the back of his hand to her cheek and grinned devilishly. “Aye, If I didn’t think you could do it, I wouldn’t have asked.”

Cersei thought she might explode from elation. He believed in and trusted her abilities. No one, not even her father or Jaime, had ever done that before.

“I’d be delighted to take this tedious chore off your hands,” she finally acknowledged in a voice filled with joy.

“Good.”

He turned, but before he could move, she grabbed his arm, pulled herself up, and with only the briefest hesitation, wrapped her arms around him, hugging him tightly.

“Thank you,” she whispered against his chest.

He reached up with his palm to stroke the silkiness of her hair, but before he could even think to embrace her, and without looking at him, she quickly pushed herself away and returned to the chair.

He stood silently, watching the side of her face for another minute, then turned and walked to the door.

“I’ll see you at dinner,” he softly said.

Cersei, however, was oblivious to everything but the financial computations in front of her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up Next:
> 
> Cersei relaxed and took a long swallow of her wine. “I prefer red!”  
> Jon grinned in return. “Aye, I’ll be sure to get some dornish wine on my way back.”


	7. Chapter 7

Cersei dressed in a crimson evening gown, tied her golden locks loosely at her nape with a small white ribbon, and purposefully strode to the kitchen for dinner, expecting to find the usual suspects waiting patiently inside. Instead, she saw only her husband standing by the small window overlooking wet grasslands and hills blurred by the thickness of evening rainfall.

Sitting on the table before her sat a platter of cold roast beef, cheeses, bread, a bowl of plums, a bottle of wine, and only two place settings.

“Aren’t Davos and Bernadette joining us?” she hesitantly asked.

“They’re busy,” he replied casually, turning. He briefly took in her appearance, then moved to help her sit, lighting three candles on the table before taking the seat next to her. “It’ll just be us.”

“Fine,” she said quickly, glancing at him as he poured the wine. Tonight he’d dressed for dinner as well, wearing a white silk shirt, dove-gray breeches and cravat, and a charcoal-gray dinner jacket. His clothes fit him impeccably, and naturally he looked perfect. The thought made her laugh.

“Something funny?” he asked, lightly amused.

“We look ridiculous sitting at the kitchen table dressed like this,” she answered with a broad smile.

He grinned and raised his glass to his lips, taking a large swallow. Then he slowly lowered it, apparently to contemplate the clear, pale liquid inside.

“Cersei,” he started in a deepened voice, “I have to admit you’re the only person I have met who speaks volumes with their expressions than with their words. The fact that you are also the most beautiful woman I have ever seen is not lost on me.”

Cersei was taken aback by his words and suddenly felt hot color rise in her cheeks. Reaching for her glass, she put it to her lips, swallowed a mouthful, and, gathering her nerves, bluntly confessed, “I think you have a right to know I don’t ever intend to carry a child.”

The room became still as death. Even the rain stopped splattering against the window.

Cersei continued to look at her glass, waiting for her husband to yell at her or storm out of the kitchen, as was his right. After several moments of unbearable silence, he shocked her completely when he instead reached for her plate and began filling it with food from the platter in front of them.

“May I ask why you changed the subject from our attire to children?”

She fidgeted from the coolness in his voice. “I just thought you should know how I feel before—”

“Before we become intimate, Cersei?”

He was twisting her words to his advantage, and that made her mad. “I want you to understand.”

“I was raised as a bastard with nothing that I could call my own. Now I have something to my name and would love to have children so I can give them the childhood I never had.”

Once again his voice was calm, controlled, as if he’d made a final, irrevocable decision on the matter.

Bravely she retorted, “I can’t give you something I don’t want.”

After regarding her for a moment, he reached for his plate and began piling it high as well.

“Your decision leads me to think you’re either frightened of childbirth or frightened of sex. I’d like to know which and I’d like to know why.”

After an uncomfortable silence, she seethed. “I was all of sixteen, when my father sold me to Robert like a horse to be ridden as he pleased. He did it a second time and here we are, and I refuse to be rutted like an animal.”

Jon looked at her with an expression of utmost horror.

Cersei inhaled deeply, “I realize you need a woman in your bed to satisfy the urges you feel. I’m very practical about these things and won’t be a bit jealous if you show any favors toward another.”

He was quiet for a moment, watching her closely, for she could positively feel the warmth of his gaze, and after an awkward minute of silence she glanced at him again. He spoke when their eyes met.

“I am sorry for what you have gone through, Cersei, but I’m going to promise you some things.”

She stared at him, unblinking.

“I promise,” he slowly began, “that I will never hurt you in any way. I promise I won’t ever take a mistress, or embarrass you in public or private by flirting with another woman, gently bred or common. We will only be intimate if you wish it. And finally, I promise, to the depths of my soul, I will never rut on you like a common bull.”

With that he turned to his food.

Cersei didn’t know whether she should lunge at him in rage or politely thank him for saying what were probably, to him, beautiful and honest words. Instead, she let the matter drop.

They ate together in silence for a while, Cersei finding her food tasteless, he practically licking his plate clean. When finally he reached for seconds, he cut the tension in the air by blandly changing the subject.

“Did you love him? Robert?”

She brushed over that and boldly asked, “Did you love her? Ygritte?”

He looked up sharply, momentarily startled, then grinned sardonically. “Perhaps I did. I learned so much from her. She, however, did not want me. Now answer my question.”

Cersei remained silent for a little while, but after the briefest hesitation, his attention fixed exclusively on her, waiting for a reply, she felt honesty was in order.

“I worshipped him! Every girl dreamed of him, but he was mine by oath. And when I finally saw him on our wedding day in the Sept of Baelor, lean and fierce and black-bearded, it was the happiest moment of my life. And that night, when he stumbled upon our marriage bed stinking of wine and two whores by his side, I knew it was a farce.”

Cersei lifted her chin, holding his gaze, “I have given up any dreams I had of romance and replaced them instead with dreams of being one of the world’s leading authorities on plant breeding.”

His brows furrowed, and his expression grew cautious.

She had nothing to lose now. “At one point my greatest desire was to study at Oxford under the direction of Sir Pycelle.”

That intrigued him immediately as he slowly leaned toward her.

“I sent him some samples of my experiments, along with computations for the exact breeding of lavender roses to create the unique hue of those grown only in climes where temperatures rarely vary. As far as I know, no one thus far has been able to create such roses, for they are extremely delicate by nature and can only be grown with exact specifications and the greatest of care.”

Cersei caught herself. She was delving into great and unnecessary detail. “In any case, the man wouldn’t meet with me, even with proof of my experience and knowledge, and had the audacity to presume someone else had done the work.” She threw her napkin on the table, trying to control herself the blind rage that threatened to overcome her

“I don’t understand, since I know the man to be smart and methodical, why he wouldn’t at least see you,” he maintained softly, seriously, seemingly a bit perplexed.

She looked at him as if he were stupid. “I’m a woman, Jon.”

He sat back at once. “Yes, you are.” After a moment of silence, he added, “And now you’re stuck with me and an overgrown garden instead of the famous Sir Pycelle and his years of expertise.”

She relaxed and took a long swallow of her wine. “I prefer red!”

He grinned in return. “Aye, I’ll be sure to get some dornish wine on my way back.”

She attempted a smile.

Perhaps this was the perfect opportunity to broach the subject of a green house.

Feeling almost immortally brave, she leaned her chest toward him. He, being a man, naturally dropped his gaze to her breasts, and for the first time since they’d met, it made her flush with delight and anticipation. She felt powerful as a woman for the first time in her life.

Lowering her voice, she placed her hand on his arm and whispered huskily, “I have a favor to ask of you, Jon.”

His eyes moved back to her face, but his expression never changed. “Indeed.”

“I would like to continue my work, but I’ve found Castle Black lacking the one necessary item I need.”

He arched a brow cynically. “And you’d like me to supply it for you?”

“Yes.”

“Am I to assume it’s a very small, inexpensive item?”

“It’s…bigger than that,” she murmured innocently, starting to feel unsure.

He cleared his throat. “Bigger than what?”

“Bigger than a small, inexpensive item.” She sat up, removing her hand from his arm.

“So what you’d like, Cersei, is for me to buy you a big, expensive item?”

She nodded just slightly.

He leaned back in his chair, regarding her.

“Okay!”

She caught her breath. He was very serious and, as she considered it, also very smug.

“Don’t you even want to know what it is?” she asked, now fully frustrated with him sitting so close to her, staring at her as he was.

“I don’t care what it is,” he whispered, placing his palm beneath her chin and tilting her head so she couldn’t help but look at him. “You do our finances, if you think we can afford it, then by all means buy it.”

He studied every inch of her face with a cunning grin on his mouth. “But I have a condition.”

Cersei straightened her shoulders and nodded. “And what would that be?”

“We’ll plant seeds together!”

Her mouth dropped open and eyebrows shot up. Then she burst out laughing with Jon joining her in merriment and for the first time their surroundings seemed light and blissful.

“I owe you an apology,” Jon said quietly.

Cersei seemed surprised at that and stared at Jon with brows furrowed.

“The day we met, at your father’s study, I was unkind to you. I was angry at your father and took it out on you. Will you forgive me?” Jon looked at her sheepishly.

Cersei was not used to such kindness. Robert had been a brute and she felt her eyes sting. Blinking furiously, she smiled at Jon, “I suppose I wasn’t exactly ladylike to you either. How about we call it even?”

Jon smiled and clasped Cersei’s hands warmly, “I’d like that!”

___________XXX____________

It was the dream that awakened her. No, not a dream…

A wail.

Cersei abruptly sat up, her heart pounding, fear enveloping her. She heard it again. A noise. A whimper, now faint, coming from her husband’s bedchamber.

Quickly she got out of bed and with cautious silence walked softly to the door dividing their rooms. She waited next to it, listening, her bare feet cold against the floor, moonglow giving her only a trace of light. But all was quiet on the other side.

After a minute or two, her body shivering, the only sound in the room coming from the faint crackling of the slowly dying fire, Cersei decided her imagination had truly caught up with her.

Then she heard it again. No mistake. A sharp wail came from the other side of the wall, then silence, then her husband’s deep voice shouting, “No!”

Cersei didn’t know what to do. It was possible he needed her. Yet surely he was alone inside and not in any real danger. A dream, perhaps?

She was on the verge of entering, her palm on the knob, when the silence fell once again. She waited at the door until she was so unbearably cold she could stand it no longer, then finally returned to her bed.

Probably just a bad dream, and for that she could do nothing.

She snuggled down into the recesses of her blankets and after several long minutes drifted off to sleep. When she woke again at dawn, her husband had already left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and feedback appreciated!!
> 
> Next up-
> 
> “Cersei—”
> 
> “No!” He reached for her, and she backed away, moving to the door. When she opened it she turned to him.


	8. Chapter 8

He would simply have to seduce her.

Jon stared at his beer mug in the bar where he was seated. The more time he spent with Cersei, the more drawn he felt towards her. Her rudeness and cruel words didn’t bother him, instead he found himself even more resolute to get close to her. He began to wonder how the seduction of a woman with as much determination and intelligence as Cersei could be accomplished. Wine and charm didn’t work, and he had never been very charming anyway.

He would do it with words.

Suddenly there was a rush of air and he found himself on the floor being licked by a huge animal.

“Easy there boy,” Jon laughed.

The large white beast was happy to be united with its master and made sure to let Jon know about it.

“He missed ya,”called a man quite large in stature.

“I have missed him too,” Jon clapped his buddy’s arm. “Tormund, my friend. How go things?”

Tormund Giantsbane gestured to the barkeep for his drink before he sat down heavily directly across from Jon. He stared at Jon petting ghost for a while before blurting out.

“Mance Rayder has escaped.”

There was a sharp and deafening silence that surrounded them.

Jon inhaled shakily. Mance Rayder was considered the wildlings evil son, he had taken a huge number of other wildlings under his wing and committed atrocious acts of violence against England. The killer who haunted Jon’s nights with striking memories of sickness and death, of lingering pain and horrifying destruction, had escaped. He knew as surely as the sun would rise tomorrow that the man would come for him. That disturbed him, and until there was word of the Wildling’s whereabouts, he would need to take precautions at home.

“What are you going to do?” Tormund eyes bore into John’s.

“What can I do?” Jon toyed with his beer mug, frowning, “I can’t exactly alert the authorities on someone that is not supposed to exist.”

“He blames you for his predicament, it is said his need for revenge is what motivated him to escape the high security prison he was being kept at,” Tormund replied carefully.

“He is a monster who brutally and willingly committed genocide against innocents. He may have said it is to carve a position for the wildlings who have long been cast away as garbage, but nothing excuses the killings,” Jon bristled.

Ghost sensing Jon’s anger gently licked his hand. Jon turned to smile at his pet before cuddling with him.

“You don’t think we deserve the same rights as you or the general English population on accounts of being a wildling?” Tormund balled his fists.

“I know exactly how you feel. I was raised as a bastard and lady Stark never missed a chance to make sure I remember what a mistake I was. I, more than anyone else wants to see the wildlings population to co-exist with the English enjoying the same rights and privileges,” Jon almost shouted.

They stared at each other for a short while, Jon’s jaw firmly set and Tormund’s nerve on his forehead twitching.

Finally, Tormund raised his beer mug to his mouth and smiled, “I know you meant every word you said. We saw Mance as our leader once, but it was you who opened our eyes on how wrong he was. I couldn’t continue to live like that and I am happy you happened to us Jon.”

“Aye, you are a good friend,” Jon smiled warmly.

“Let’s keep an open communication. If I don’t hear from you in over a moon, I will come with the cavalry,” suggested the big man.

“Sounds like a plan.”

_X_X_X_X

Disturbed with his earlier conversation with Tormund, Jon steered his horses along the muddy path with Ghost running by his side. His little travel adventure had been well worth the trouble. He’d needed only three days to take care of estate matters, hire the rest of the essential help including two decorators who would begin refurnishing the property next week, and speak with his banker regarding his financial situation. Considering how long he’d been gone, his books were quite sound.

He just didn’t know how much, if anything, he should tell Cersei. If Mance found out about her, she would be dead before she knew what hit her. She was safer in the dark. So, resolved not to share the information, he set out for Castle Black with the understanding that if Mance was indeed gearing up to pay him a visit, it would be up to him to protect them all.

Slowly the estate came into view. He always relished in the knowledge that all of this belonged to him. Jon came into this possession five years ago on his eighteenth birthday. It was only when he rounded the last bend in the road, watching as tall lilac bushes gave way to the view of his home, that he thought about her—about his arrogant, rude and devastatingly beautiful wife.

He felt a kind of excitement and warmth that he didn’t think he was capable of.

Quickly he steered his horses toward the stables. It was then that he saw Cersei running through the small meadow in the direction he was heading, wet hair flying behind her in wild disarray, her soaking dress clinging to her small form.

That’s when he knew trouble had begun.

_X_X_X_X_

Cersei hardly noticed her personal things missing at first, assuming instead that she’d misplaced them—a hairbrush here, a shoe there, even some of her plants pulled from the ground for no reason. But after learning from Bernadette, that one of the new servants had a child running loose on Castle Black’s property and had been seen less than an hour before carrying books as she headed in the direction of the stables, Cersei’s mild curiosity turned to apprehension, and she had to check her things.

What she discovered enraged her. Although her comprehensive notes for breeding her lavender roses remained in place, among her trunks yet to be unpacked she found two items missing—a small book describing the first French botanical gardens established at the University of Montpellier, and her most cherished possession—her notes from Sir Pycelle’s classroom lectures, which she’d collected with great care over several years and had bound into book form only last May to take with her to America. Someone had stolen them, toying with her for a reason she couldn’t imagine, and Cersei was furious. Without second thought, she found herself racing to the stables.

By the time she reached the restored structure, her chiffon gown was nearly ruined, soaked through with splattered water and mud, but she couldn’t have cared any less. She threw the door open and stomped inside.

It was then that she saw the girl.

Curled up in a corner lay the figure of a sleeping child on a bed of hay. She was a filthy little thing no more than four years of age, dressed in a worn, wrinkled cotton dress. Beneath the grime, the face of an angel, Cersei thought, until she noticed the paper surrounding the tiny body.

Her books…torn to shreds.

Her breath quickened, and her heart began to pound from pure, focused rage.

Suddenly, as if sensing danger, the girl’s eyes opened, and she scrambled to her feet.

“You little—”

Cersei lunged for her but missed as the slip of a child darted past her with the speed and agility of a fox, racing through the door to freedom.

She righted herself, turning toward the entrance with the determination of a bloodhound on the hunt. But before she put her palm to the wood, it opened wide and in walked her husband with the girl, wiggling fiercely, tucked under his arm like a sack of grain.

Cersei was so shocked to see him that she stopped dead in her tracks, and were it not for the fact that the child clawed at his stomach, she might have forgotten all about her.

They stared at each other, his face drawn and hard, his body wet from rain, his eyes locked with hers in silent communication. She was breathing heavily and definitely looked a sight, but she didn’t care. All the work she had so meticulously compiled during the last five years into her personal book of study was destroyed.

“Let me at her, “Cersei said tightly.

“What did she do?” he softly asked, lowering the girl to the ground, holding her little arm as she continued to fight him.

Cersei balled her fist and yelled. “She—she ruined my books, destroyed my notes…” Abruptly she looked up to him in rage. “Get rid of her!”

He took a deep breath. “I can’t do that.”

She just stared at him, incredulous. “She is a wretched child of your former housekeeper, Maude.”

“She is just a child, Cersei.”

“I don’t care,” retorted Cersei.

Suddenly the child was gone, sprinting through the door like a rabbit on the run.

Cersei tried to run after her but Jon held her tight. She tried to struggle against his strong arms but her husband didn’t even budge.

“She’s not normal, Cersei.”

She turned her head sharply to glare at him, emerald eyes big and shiny black against wet lashes. Her golden, damp hair fell loosely and clung against the pinkness of her cheeks and the creaminess of her neck.

Jon reluctantly let her go.

“What’s wrong with her?” she finally asked in a thick, broken voice.

He sat on the hay beside her, drawing his legs up to rest his elbows on his knees, lacing a piece of straw through his fingers in front of him.

“She’s…wild. Uncontrollable.”

Cersei scoffed and turned her head.

“Maude and her child, Rosalyn first appeared on my doorstep a little over four years ago. Her husband had left her with the child and had taken on a younger lover. Rosalyn was burning with fever and Maude had nowhere to go, “Jon said quietly.

Cersei felt a pang of familiarity. How many bastards had Robert left in his wake? What had happened to them and their mothers? She had been too bitter and too angry to even consider.

Jon expelled a long sigh, “Had Lord Stark not taken me in and cared for me, I wouldn’t have survived. I owe my life to him and seeing Rosalyn that day reminded me of that. They live with me now.”

They sat in silence for a bit. Suddenly Cersei shrieked and backed away, eyes wide in horror.

Ghost had slowly walked into the stable and came to rest by Jon while staring at Cersei intensely. Jon nuzzled him, “This is Ghost, and he is my pet. I have had him for the past ten years.”

“I suppose that this beast lives with us now too,” Cersei glared at Ghost.

Jon gave a small nod, “He will stay out of your way.”

“Why?” she asked, tormented.

“He likes the wild —”

“I’m not talking about that beast!” she shouted, turning to face him. “I’m talking about every man on earth making it so incredibly difficult for a woman to succeed!”

He looked at her as if she were insane. She started walking rapidly towards the house. He stood just as fast and grabbed her arm.

“Don’t touch me,” she said with deadly calmness.

He dropped his hand from the sleeve of her gown, his jaw tightening with building anger.

“My life was perfect until I met you, Lord Snow. Now everything I’ve ever wanted is gone.”

Sternly he replied, “I think you’re overreacting—”

“Overreacting?” She took a step back, staring at him as if he were diseased. “Do you know what it’s like for a woman who wants to learn? We can’t enroll in classes for an education like a man. The only thing we’re allowed to do, if we come from a decent background, is study grammar and music from governesses so that when we become ladies, we can entertain the men in our lives by writing ridiculous poetry or sitting at the pianoforte for hours at a time.”

She took a step toward him, pointing a finger at her chest. “Well, I was born with a gift, except I also had the little problem of being female. And do you know how women with gifts for unspeakable things like science and mathematics are allowed to learn? We have to sneak the information. Did you know that? We have to sneak it.”

He just looked at her, so she straightened, placed her hands on her hips, and continued in a very subdued voice. “After Robert’s death, I began attending classes at Oxford University.”

He was noticeably shocked, and that made her laugh.

“That’s right, my darling husband,” she expounded sarcastically. “I began attending classes with the few other daring women who wanted to learn, and do you know where we sat?” She crossed her arms over her chest and waited for his reply.

After a moment, he softly admitted, “I’ve no idea.”

She chuckled bitterly. “We didn’t! We weren’t actually allowed in the classrooms, Jon. If we weren’t a distraction to those who were there to truly learn—meaning men, of course—we were allowed to stand in the hallway and listen. Isn’t that thoughtful of all the men who make the rules? We couldn’t ask questions of the tutors; couldn’t take the tests administered to the men, who were allowed to sit comfortably in chairs; we were allowed only to listen and be invisible.”

She stopped her tirade to take a breath before continuing.

“And it’s all right there,” she choked out, pointing to what was left of her work. “Five years of notes I took crouching in the hallways at Oxford University while I tried to learn from the greatest botanist in the world. All right there. All destroyed by a filthy, ill-bred little girl.”

“Cersei—”

“No!” He reached for her, and she backed away, moving to the door. When she opened it she turned to him.

He looked stricken.

“That sick girl has destroyed the only thing that has ever mattered to me.” Her voice dropped to a low, dangerous whisper. “And you have ruined my life.”

“Cersei….”

He reached out in comfort, but she ignored him, running furiously to the safety of the house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback and comments appreciated!
> 
> Up Next:
> 
> “You scared the poor girl, husband,” Cersei smirked as the intimacy entranced her.
> 
> “Or perhaps, she left on her own accord to give us some privacy, wife,” Jon intimated with a feathery kiss to her cheek.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone!   
> Sorry for the delay in posting this chapter. I am currently writing chapter 14 of this story, after not writing anything for the past few weeks.
> 
> This chapter is kind of a filler but also necessary to move the plot forward. 
> 
> As always I thank everyone who read, reviewed and left kudos. It warms my heart to know that you are waiting for updates and actually interested in reading this.
> 
> Much thanks!

She had dreamed of Steffon again.

Ever since her fateful meeting with Rosalyn, Cersei had dreamed of Steffon every night. Her beautiful baby boy was calling out to her and she could do nothing. It was haunting her.

She stood and purposefully walked into the kitchen and sat across from Maude and Rosalyn.

“My lady, did you—”

Cersei raised her hand to signal Maude to stop speaking.

“Is she trained to relieve herself properly or does she need to be changed?” Cersei nodded towards Rosalyn.

Maude showed surprise at her question, but not embarrassment. “She can generally take care of her own needs my lady. Why do you ask?”

Dauntlessly she said, “It seems to me that a four-year-old child who can take care of her own private needs, manipulate an adult by moving her possessions from one room to another, be cunning enough to purposely hide my shoes in the blue room isn’t all that sick in the mind.”

Maude looked up sharply.

“A child who can think ahead, plan her actions, and manipulate an adult is rational,” Cersei continued. “She has a rational mind, and causing trouble is the only way she can think of to get attention.”

“You’re implying she hid your shoes and tore your books to get your attention?” Came a voice from behind.

Cersei turned to look at Jon who must have been standing for sometime.  She held her tongue from a caustic reply to his overly casual question, her pulse racing as she watched him approach. He’d just come from a bath, for his hair was still damp and his cotton shirt and breeches were clean and fresh, and fit him far too snugly.

She looked back towards Maude, noticeably blushing and certain he saw it. Then in the blink of an eye he was squeezing his hard body in beside her, and she settled for the closeness.

“As I was saying,” Cersei cleared her throat. “Rosalyn grew up with all of you but Bernadette and I are new. Bernadette complained of missing items as well. Rosalyn doesn’t trust us and this act on her part might be to convince us to leave.”

They all stared at one another.

“She is deaf, is she not?” 

Maude slowly nodded at Cersei’s question and eyed Rosalyn who was slurping the milk from her bowl.

Cersei raised her fingers and tapped the wooden table next to Rosalyn’s bowl twice. The little girl looked up in bewilderment and then to everyone’s surprised tapped her own fingers much like Cersei had done.

“Rosalyn is not sick or insane, she is deaf. And she is definitely teachable,” Cersei clapped her hands in excitement only to be copied by Rosalyn yet again.

“You really think she can be taught?” Maude asked nervously.

“I think Rosalyn is as quick-minded as any child her age,” Cersei said passionately. “And if you allow her behavior to continue as it is now, if you only feed her and clothe her and let her run wild, you’ll be cheating her. She’s a beautiful girl and she deserves a better life than that. And I would like to teach her.”

“You’d do this for her?” Jon asked softly.

Cersei shrugged. Maude gasped. Rosalyn smiled. Jon took in all their expressions and turned to his wife. Then without warning, he leaned in to brush his lips against her temple, and the suddenness coupled with the gentleness of the action made Cersei powerless to his touch.

Maude mumbled something before yanking Rosalyn with her and out the door.

“You scared the poor girl, husband,” Cersei smirked as the intimacy entranced her.

“Or perhaps, she left on her own accord to give us some privacy, wife,” Jon intimated with a feathery kiss to her cheek.

Cersei shuddered and instinctively leaned toward him, oblivious to all but his mouth on her skin.

“Privacy? For what?”

Jon brought his lips to hers, kissing her fully, with no hint of passion, just pure tenderness and warmth. After several seconds he raised his head to peer into her eyes.

“Just one thing, Cersei,” he whispered.

She blinked, dazed.

He grinned and cupped her face with his palms. “Rosalyn is not a flower. No experimenting on her.”

Cersei simply rolled her eyes.

_X_X_X_X_

Cersei and Davos were sitting at the newly purchased dining-room table, sipping tea and discussing trivial household matters, when outside the window Jon could be seen walking towards the stables.

“Tell me about Lord Snow, Davos. What was he like growing up?”

Davos sighed, “Like most bastards he worked all day long in the stables. Lady Catelyn was a bit…demanding. She had the ability to push people in whatever direction she chose for them, regardless of what they wanted. In any event, once his lordship was legitimized he joined the Government.”

Cersei, so engrossed in her own thoughts and work since her arrival, hadn’t given much consideration to Jon’s family. That was probably selfish, too, for she’d never asked him a thing about his childhood, his relationships with his friends, and now she was curious.

“What about the rest of the family?”

“Jon got along very well with every one of them except Sansa, but recently after having saved her from her awful husband Ramsay Bolton, they have gotten close,” Davos answered scratching his chin. 

“He cares deeply for them?”

Davos smiled, “He would give his life for them.”

Cersei frowned and asked hesitantly, “Why weren’t any of them at our wedding?”

“You will have to ask him that, my lady, “Davos divulged with wide eyes. “I think it just happened so fast, your wedding I mean, it was not possible..”

“I understand,” Cersei nodded.

She watched the man stuff his mouth with the lemon tarts-his fifth in that sitting. After swallowing hard and licking his lips, Davos continued, “For someone who had such little love given to him growing up, he loves in abundance. You’ll see.”

Blushing lightly she decided to ask the question that had been on her mind from the start, “What about Ygritte?”

Davos puckered his face so tightly that Cersei almost broke out laughing.

“Miss Ygritte was brainless. She came from the wilding tribe with nothing and nobody. I only met her twice, and both times she concerned herself with nothing but her hair and fashions.” He shook his head and wiped crumbs off his face, “One day she conveniently changed her mind about marrying him and left. I think it hurt him and I also think he was lonely.”

Cersei felt her first ever pang of deep-felt sympathy for her husband at that moment. She understood how it felt to be termed unusual and have few friends, what it was like to feel completely alone. In many ways her life paralleled her husband’s, and where she’d found comfort in her plants, he’d found it in his horses, his work.

This time Davos smiled, “That is in the past now. Until you came along, I was certain he’d never meet a woman who complemented his intense nature, who was perfect for him in so many ways.”

Cersei reached for her tea to hide her choked expression. “We don’t even really know each other,” she whispered shakily, knowing it was a ridiculous thing to say to defend her position.

Davos relaxed against the back of his chair, expression growing serious. “The man you married is kind, understanding, and fiercely loyal. He’s confused by you, yes, and enthralled and uncertain, and even with his blunt nature, very shy. But he’s also a man—stubborn, demanding, and just as quick to show his temper as he is to hide his tender emotions.”

Suddenly, urgently, she needed to get away. “I just remembered something I have to do, Davos.” 

She started for the door and ran into Rosalyn.  Cersei abruptly stopped moving and stared down at her, stunned. Rosalyn clung to her tightly as she tugged at the hem of her gown in an attempt to keep her from going anywhere. She was hit with flashes of Steffon again.

All other thoughts vanished as Cersei knelt beside the child, grasping her arms and pulling her up to stand in front of her, eye to eye. 

They looked at each other, Rosalyn red-faced and panting, Cersei determined but uncertain of what to do next. She’d never been so close and didn’t want to lose a chance like this. Cersei steadied herself and slowly released the girl, allowing her to stand on her own, praying she wouldn’t run. Then with the care and instinct, she reached up with her right hand, tapped her chest three times with her palm and opened her arms.

Rosalyn blinked, unsure. Then, as if the sun had suddenly burst through the window to shine brilliantly into the room, it all became perfectly clear. Her mouth turned up slowly into a lovely, sweeping grin, and in one quick movement she threw her tiny body against Cersei’s bosom, wrapping her arms around her neck to hug her fiercely.

“Oh, good heavens, I’ve never seen her do such a thing,” Davos whispered, astonished.

Cersei held tightly, afraid to let go, “She’s hugging me, Davos.”

Davos shook his head. “I never thought I’d see the day when that child would respond instead of react. It’s almost as if she can think like a normal little girl.”

Cersei grinned joyously. “She is a normal little girl.”

And so the teaching began.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up Next:
> 
> It was a nightmare. He was having a savage nightmare, so controlling, so deep, he thrashed around in his bed without waking.  
> Jon Snow was afraid of something!!


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello Wonderful people
> 
> Thank you so much for the love, kudos and comments. They make me so happy. Hope everyone is doing well. I am just trying to stay sane with all the sad news popping up almost every week.
> 
> RIP Sushant Singh Rajput, you are gone too soon.

Chapter 10

It had been a week since Jon had shared an eventful talk with Davos, his closest confidant, and during that time he’d given the old man’s advice a great deal of consideration.

Davos thought rather highly of his new wife but was deeply suspicious of her motives. He felt she was hiding something and that her reasons for not wanting to consummate their marriage were detailed and involved, maybe because she was saving herself for an annulment or another man. Jon, however, as highly as he regarded Davos and his opinions, didn’t believe this at all. Cersei wasn’t a virgin—everyone knew that—and an annulment was simply out of the question. But what bothered him most was the old man’s awareness that he and his wife weren’t yet lovers. If Davos knew this, then probably everybody else at Castle Black did as well.

So deep was Jon in his thoughts he never heard Cersei come and sit next to him in the parlor in front of the fire.

“What are you thinking?”

Snapped out of his thoughts Jon turned to look at Cersei. He gives her a small smile, “Do you know what I think about, day and night, Cersei?” he softly asked.

She looked up, eyes wide with uneasiness. “I’m sure I don’t.”

He smiled, his lids narrowing as he stared at her intently. “I think about you.”

She was noticeably shocked but didn’t pull away.

Slowly, eyes locked with hers, he started caressing her jaw with his thumb. “I think about your pale, creamy skin, your lovely face so filled with expressions of shocking secrets and hidden desires for me yet to discover. I think about your eyes, like bright, polished emeralds, shining with hurt and joy, beauty and intelligence.”

Cersei averted her gaze.

“Don’t, Cersei,” he pleaded in a whisper, putting his fingers below her chin to make her look at him. “Look at me…” He reached up and tugged at the ribbon in her hair, freeing the shiny locks to fall over her shoulders and down her back.

Emerald pools bore into his stormy dark eyes.

“I think I am falling in love with you,” he whispered huskily.

In a fast, sweeping movement, his lips were upon hers, kissing her with a passion both rough and tender, hot, vibrant, and filled with desire.

She stilled for several seconds, then fell to the need, succumbing to his urgency. He opened her mouth with his tongue, searching, and when he found hers, he grasped it and began to gently suck.

Jon held her against him firmly, possessively, listening to each moan of raw pleasure escape her throat. She was suddenly on fire for him, as he was for her. They melded to each other in a blinding, frenzied rage of blissful torment.

He stood and pulled Cersei up with him and crashed his lips to her, sucked her tongue, caressed her head with his palm, and pushed her soft, luscious body against the hardness of his. She fell into step with him, kissing him back in a fever of need, rubbing her hips and breasts against him in an instinctive wild abandon as old as time.

The yearning was there. The craving, the longing, the delicious forbidden fruits, all there for the picking. The urge he felt at that moment, to make her his forevermore, was nothing less than torturous. She needed him just as badly, felt as deeply as he that becoming one with each other was unavoidable. He could feel it in her response to his touch.

But this wasn’t what he’d planned. Now was not the time. Patience would be his watchword until she came to him.

Gently, with a control he didn’t know he possessed, he gradually relaxed his body and released her mouth, running his tongue across her lips, then along her jaw to her ear. He heard her whimper again softly, felt her cling to him in desperation.

“I will wait for you, my sweet wife,” he said thickly. “When the time is right, you will come to me, and together we will create the most beautiful child of all.”

Slowly he released her, watching her until she opened her eyes, she was breathing rapidly, her body shaking, expression stunned, confused, her face flushed beautifully with color.

He smiled knowingly and brushed her cheek with the back of his hand. “Sleep well, Cersei.”

With that, he turned and walked inside the house.

-x-x-x-x-x-

Sleep was impossible. Cold wind and rain had been building in strength throughout the day, now blustering against her bedroom windows in torrential waves. It was going to be a long and dreary night.

Cersei sighed restlessly and turned onto her back. Her room was in almost total darkness, the fire banked hours ago. From time to time she glanced at the door—the only barrier, useless as it apparently was, between her and the man she’d married.

Since he’d left her standing in the parlor a few hours ago, flustered and shocked at her own behavior, she hadn’t been able to concentrate on anything but him—his words, his caressing voice, hands, mouth.

The thought of what they’d shared consumed her, swirls of charged heat started from her belly and radiated through her body, converging in a fire between her legs. Cersei had forgotten what a man’s touch felt like, she had never been with anyone but Robert and her late husband had never made her feel anything like this in fifteen years of their marriage as Jon had her feel in moments.

She turned her face to the window, watching as thick rain pelted against the glass, listening to the ferocious gusts of wind. And it was because of the clamor of the outside storm that she almost missed the noise.

Cersei sat up quickly. She waited for a moment, then heard it again—the same sound coming from her husband’s bedchamber that she’d heard her fifth night at Castle Black.

Throwing back the covers, she stepped onto the cold floor, the contact drawing a shiver from her body. She rapidly donned her robe and slippers, then walked to the adjoining door, turn it gently, and slowly open the door.

His room appeared lighter than hers, his fire not yet completely extinguished, and when she looked to the bed she saw his form outlined in shadow. For a minute she only stared, shocked as she watched him thrash so violently under his blankets, his head jerking from side to side.

It was a nightmare. He was having a savage nightmare, so controlling, so deep, he thrashed around in his bed without waking.

He’s afraid of something.

Concerned, fascinated, she tiptoed to the side of his bed. His blankets were pushed down to his waist, exposing bare chest and arms, fists clutching the sheets to his sides, muscles in his neck and stomach fiercely knotted, skin damp and gleaming with perspiration…

She took a deep breath and reached out to touch his arm.

His skin felt tight and clammy to the touch. With an attempt to stop his head from shaking, she stretched across his chest and placed her palm on his cheek.

That’s when he grabbed her wrist.

She nearly screamed. He did it for her.

“Cersei!”

He sat up, his eyes opened wide with horror and fear, his breathing erratic and fast.

Her mouth went dry, and suddenly she was shaking uncontrollably from the cold building inside of her.

“Cersei,” he mumbled again, pulling her toward him.

She allowed herself to be led, her mind confused, her body now freezing. She swallowed in an attempt to regain her voice, her composure.

“I think you were dreaming,” she whispered roughly.

He clutched at her in desperation, drawing himself against her as she stood next to him, shaking as he buried his head in her breasts. “Oh, God, Cersei, don’t leave. Don’t leave.”

The pleading, the raw and unmistakable fear in his voice, persuaded her to do the irrational.

“It’s all right,” she soothed, sitting beside him, cupping his head with her palm. “I’ll stay.”

She felt him begin to breathe easier, his arms relax behind her. She kicked off her slippers and crawled in beside him, holding him as she snuggled down under his blankets.

She cradled his head against her chest, gently combing her fingers through his hair, giving comfort through her touch, enjoying the warmth of his body against her. He hadn’t said another word but he wouldn’t release her, wouldn’t let go, and finally, as his breathing slowed and deepened, and the wind and rain quieted to nothing more than sprinkling against glass on a cold autumn night, she closed her eyes to the serenity of sleep.

Cersei stirred and slowly opened heavy, sluggish lids to the dimness of the room and the sight of deep grey eyes watching her from only a foot away.

She was in his bed.

He smiled, resting his elbow on his pillow, his head in his palm as he took a lock of her hair to lace through his fingers.

“Thank you!” he said in a low voice.

She couldn’t speak.

His gaze brushed over her face slowly, caressingly, before it once again locked with hers.

Deepening his smile, he whispered, “My greatest desire is to wake up every morning for the rest of my life with you beside me as you are now, to see your hair flowing over my pillows in spun gold waves and your face looking soft and beautifully sensual.”

“I should leave. It’s already getting light,” she heard herself saying, feeling strangely detached.

“Don’t.” His features turned serious as he reached up to place his palm on her cheek. “You belong here.”

He’d pushed the sheets and blankets down to his waist once again, and the sight of his muscled chest only inches away did nothing to sedate or reassure her. She looked down her body, uncertain of her position and grateful she still wore her robe and nightdress.

With a calmness she didn’t realize she possessed, she slowly sat up. “I really have to go. The servants—”

“—can go to hell,” he finished for her, grabbing her around the waist and pulling her back down beside him.

That made her giggle. “Jon—”

Cersei turned to look at him. She had the incredible urge to touch him as her eyes once again strayed to his chest, to the bronzed and down-covered muscles and cords of strength only inches away. He must have noticed where she fixed her gaze, for at that moment he took her hand in his and placed it between his exposed nipples.

Her eyes shot back to his face. He was watching her closely, but his lids had narrowed. She felt stunned and unsure of what to do, knowing she should pull away. But with all her logical reasons for avoiding physical intimacy, she couldn’t bring to an end the emotional responses overwhelming her.

“It’s all right Cersei,” he comforted in a deeply smooth voice. “I want you to touch me, and you can stop when you like.”

Grey orbs pierced her mind and soul, mesmerizing her. She was reacting rather than thinking, but at that moment she daringly wanted to feel.

Slowly, her head resting on his pillows, her body once again warm beneath his blankets, she began to run her fingers through the curls on his chest, her eyes never leaving his. His jaw tightened, and his breathing became shallow, but he didn’t move to touch her in return. He lay perfectly still, content in simply watching her. And finally, when she drew her thumb across his nipple and circled it slowly, he succumbed to the feeling and groaned softly, closing his eyes.

The intimacy entranced her. Her body ignited from one simple touch, from only looking at him and feeling his response to her fingers on his solid, male form. She felt both powerful and delicate.

Bravely she lowered her palm to his stomach, stroking the smooth, taut lines, her hand now beneath the blankets. He was so firm, so strong, everything she’d imagined. And when at last her fingers found his navel, she knew without any doubt that he was completely naked beside her and had undoubtedly been so all night. If she lowered her hand any further she would be touching him intimately.

She stopped the movement of her palm, and he opened his eyes. For a long moment they stared at each other, oblivious to the outside world, dark velvet grey melding with blazing vivid green. He said nothing, just gazed at her with stark desire, untamed arousal, his head only inches from hers.

He slowly reached for her palm, raising it to his lips, softly kissing the tender skin on her fingers, her wrist. Then without hesitation, he once again lowered it and gently placed her hand on the most intimate part of him. 

He felt like hot, satin-covered marble to her fingertips, and with desires she didn’t know she could ever feel, she closed her eyes and touched him, picturing in her mind the perfection of that which she could only see with her hand.

Slowly she began to move her palm, her fingers, up, then down the front of him in slow form. She licked her lips and leaned her head back, marveling at the strength he possessed in just this one area of his body. He was long and thick, wonderful to touch. She grasped him firmly, her knuckles brushing against coarse, springy curls as she continued to explore the length of him. Gently she placed the pad of her thumb on the tip, circling it once, and that’s when he touched her arm.

“Cersei…”

She opened her eyes. His expression was grim, eyes glazed.

“No more.” He breathed deeply. “I need you to stop unless you’re ready for me to touch you.”

His voice was strained and barely audible.

She stared at him for what seemed like hours, her hand still resting firmly on him, until she found the courage to speak her mind instead of what was in her heart. “I can’t…”

He closed his eyes to her softly spoken words, drawing her hand back to the safety of his chest, trying to regain control.

Cersei closed her eyes as well, allowing reason to force its way into her mind, feeling his heart beating hard beneath her hand, his warmth seeping through her fingertips.

When she opened her eyes, Jon  smiled, grabbed her around the waist, and hugged her against him, her head tucked under his chin, hands and breasts flattened against his chest, her toes rubbing the coarse hairs on his legs.

Timidly she whispered, “Sometimes you can be wonderful.”

He lifted her face to his. “Only sometimes?”  Brows pinching thoughtfully, he added, “Come to think of it, no one has ever called me wonderful.”

She grinned bashfully. “Good. I’d like to think I’m the first for something in your life.”

Smiling, he said, “You could start by sleeping with me like this every night. That would be a first for both of us.”

“Oh Jon…” She stared at him, stunned, and that made him chuckle.

“Believe it or not,” he teased, “I even find you sexy clothed like a nun as you are now.”

“I’m not clothed like a nun, this is a nightdress—”

“It’s ugly and leaves everything to my imagination.”

“As well it should,” she scolded.

“My imagination is not that good, Cersei.”

“I’m certain it’s adequate.”

“Take it off and let me have a look,” he suggested devilishly.

Cersei abruptly stood up. 

Jon started, “I was only..” But was silenced when Cersei pulled the sash holding her robe to reveal her almost transparent nightdress.

Letting out a soft gasp he eyed her hungrily as Cersei slowly moved her hands from her chest to her thighs. Then just as abruptly tied her robe back and smirked. “I think that’s good enough for today.”

Jon groaned, rolled his eyes, and fell back hard against the sheets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up next:
> 
> “Wouldn’t you like to take me out somewhere tonight, my lord?” Cersei had a mischievous glint in her eyes.
> 
> Jon’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “All right, then. Where would my lady wife want to go?”
> 
> “What do you mean ‘All right, then’?! I haven’t agreed to anything yet!”


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the late post! I am back now and writing again. Thank you for your support!

Jon had suggested they go for a walk, and Cersei couldn’t argue that. The sun had shone all morning, and what dampness remained from the previous night’s showers had finally given way to a lovely autumn afternoon, beckoning even the most reclusive souls to stray outside and take in the freshness, the sweetness of wild roses and heather.

After bathing and spending an hour in attempted communication with Rosalyn, Cersei had sat at her writing desk in the parlor for the better part of the morning, preparing a list of suitable foodstuffs for tea. Her brother Jaime would be visiting Castle Black for the first time that afternoon, and she wanted everything to be perfect.

The day was beautiful and warm, and the two adults strolled side by side in silence, Jon carrying a blanket under one arm. They reached the top of a grassy hill overlooking the house, where he spread the blanket, sat heavily upon it, and pulled Cersei down beside him.

For a long while they sat peacefully and quietly together, marveling the beauty of the nature.

They could see at a distance Rosalyn playing with her mother Maude, and she attempted to feed the child.

“You’ve done the impossible with her,” Jon acknowledged at last. “I never thought I’d see the day when she would be clean and beautiful and play like a normal child.”

Cersei smiled, drew her legs up under her peach day gown, and wrapped her arms around her knees. “She’s a smart little girl. She just needed a little push in the right direction.”

He turned to her, watching the side of her face. “I’ve never known a woman like you, Cersei. You never cease to amaze me and I don’t know what I’ll do without you in my life.”

Although he had said it lightly, his words, oddly enough, made her feel both joyful and uncomfortable. She tried to smile as she wiped a stray piece of hair from her cheek.

“I’m sure you’d manage. You managed before.”

After a quiet moment he turned his head back to her and gazed into her eyes. “I didn’t manage before you, I barely existed.”

Brows furrowed, she raised her hand and brushed a lock of hair off his forehead. “This is about last night, isn’t it?”

Jon expelled a deep breathe, “I need to tell you somethings about my past.”

Cersei nodded.

“I used to work undercover for the British premium intelligence.”

Cersei gaped at him, her mouth open.

“My assignment was to integrate with the wilding and collect information to take down their leader Mance Rayder. I spent months learning their mannerisms and trained intensely to ensure that I look the part.”

He grasped her hand, intertwined her fingers with his and squeezed gently, waiting for her to look him in the eye. When she did, he gave her a comforting smile. “I needed a weak link to infiltrate and I found that in a woman named Ygritte.”

He found her staring at him wide-eyed and utterly incredulous, for nothing in her life had ever shocked her so. He held her gaze, watching her intently as if waiting for response or reaction, but she couldn’t think of a suitable reply.

He paused, looking out over the hills. “You have to know that much of my reason for seeing Ygritte over the years was personal. But although she seldom discussed government or political issues, she moved in those crowds and from time to time was an unsuspecting and knowledgeable in formant.”

Instinctively Cersei clasped his hand tightly, shock giving way to intrigue. “Tell me what happened.”

“I wasn’t to get attached, but she was so naïve and yet so brave. She made it so easy for me to get in and gain everyone’s trust. Mance isn’t the trusting kind at all, but seeing Ygritte so in love with me, within a few months I was a part of Mance’s core group. He followed my every move, and my guard was always up when he was around, but ultimately Mance began to trust me.”

Jon rubbed Cersei knuckles softly before continuing, “Once I had all I needed to capture Mance, I got Ygritte out of there and with the help of the British intelligence, found her the status of a lady of London. Mance was captured and the wildings disbanded. They have been a peaceful community ever since.”

“Is that why you were felicitated by the King and Queen?”

“Yes, the mission was discreet of course. You should have seen Mance’s face when he realized I was the turncoat.” Jon said with a faraway gaze as if he were reliving that day.

Cersei looked at him with shining green orbs, “What of Ygritte?”

Jon gave her a sad smile. “I got her away from that life but once she learned the truth, she saw herself a traitor to her people. I begged her to stay but she hated my guts and left.”

“I’m sorry,” Cersei murmured, greatly surprised at the joy and relief she felt at hearing Ygritte’s departure. It unnerved her to find that she felt jealous towards another woman who had been in Jon’s life.

“Now you understand why I need you so, Cersei,” he said huskily, passionately, bringing her palm to kiss it.

The breeze picked up, blowing loose hair across her face. Gently he lifted his hand and brushed it aside, taking the time to run his fingers down her cheek.

“Now your turn, “Jon said softly and cautiously.

She pursed her lips, “My turn for what?”

He waited a beat, “Who’s Steffon?”

He watched her closely but saw nothing except the slightest trace of tightness cross her mouth.

“Where did you hear that name?” her voice barely a whisper.

“I am not the only one with nightmares,” he said bleakly, quietly.

“Oh, God…” She felt sick, her head suddenly reeling.

Jon wrapped her tightly in his arms, gently rocking her as tears fell fast from her eyes. “Shhh, I got you. You are safe.” He kissed her temple.

The pain was obviously evident, for at that moment Cersei scooted closer and clutched onto him tightly. Jon felt softness and warmth, smelled wild roses and the violet water only she wore.

“Cersei—”

Slowly she raised her head to look at Jon and painfully recounted her beautiful baby that was gone too soon. The empty nursery, her bloodied garments after a painful labor and loneliness that followed as Robert ignored her, her twin who was far away and unable to come to her and the father who simply asked to try again.

His nostrils flared, and he squeezed her hand. “I am so sorry Cersei. We both have our demons and together I am sure we can overcome anything.”

Jon reached out and pulled her against his chest. She allowed herself to be led, moving into his arms, resting her palms on the softness of his shirt, kissing his cheek and neck without shame or second thought.

He kissed her in return then, his lips brushing away the tears from her cheeks. Slowly she moved her head down to rest it on his lap, her body and thoughts calming as she stared out to the meadow while Jon lightly stroked her neck.

They stayed like that in each other’s embrace for a long time. With the smell of flowers in the air and sunshine on her back, Cersei was certain she’d never felt so emotionally close to anyone in her life. With each passing week, she knew she was losing herself to her husband, and even with her mind centered, her thoughts controlled, for the first time ever she didn’t care.

“Wouldn’t you like to take me out somewhere tonight, my lord?” Cersei had a mischievous glint in her eyes.

Jon’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “All right, then. Where would my lady wife want to go?”

“What do you mean ‘All right, then’?! I haven’t agreed to anything yet!” Cersei returned before getting up and sprinting towards the mansion.

Halfway through Jon caught up with her, pouncing on her as he circled her waist with his arms to pull her to the ground. Both of them laughing, tumbling and clinging to each other as they rolled across the grass.

“Seven hells,” he said in a voice rich with happiness. “You will be the end of me…” 

The look he gave her was beautiful, warm, and filled with pleasure. He was breathing fast, holding her tightly, but his eyes were what grabbed her attention. They were bright and charged with emotion, dark grey orbs of longing and thankfulness.

He loosened his arms and placed his palms on her cheeks. “Oh Cersei,” he whispered in the wind.

Then he kissed her deeply, passionately, embracing her fully, his mouth locked with hers in a private communication only they shared.

She ran her fingers through his hair, inhaling the scent that was only her husband’s, relishing in his strength, the hardness of his body beneath hers. She would have given almost anything to allow the moment to last an eternity, to be lost in his touch forever.

She moaned softly, aching with needs untouched when he finally pushed her lips from his. He ran his fingers over her swollen mouth and flaming cheeks, then back through her hair.

A movement caught Cersei’s attention. She looked up, in the direction of the house, and to her complete mortification, her twin stood no more than thirty feet away, staring at her in stunned disbelief.

“Oh, God, he’s early,” she murmured, coming to her senses quickly as she pushed against her husband. He held her firmly and chuckled.

“Jon, let me go,” she said frantically. “My brother—”

“Your brother what?”

He was grinning unashamedly, and that made her mad. “Let me go!”

“Kiss me again.”

She gaped at him. “He’ll see us.”

“He already has, Cersei. Kiss me…”

“No!”

He grinned rakishly. “Kiss me, or I’ll give him something to really talk about.”

She rolled her eyes and lowered her head to give him a peck on the cheek. Instead, he pulled her head forcefully against his once more and smothered her mouth until she became breathless.

At last he released her. “Do you know what I think, Cersei?”

“I don’t care,” she countered, pushing herself up.

He smiled. “I think your twin will think you’re happy.”

She stared at him, feeling strangely defeated. “I am happy.”

Quickly turning her face away, she smoothed her hair behind her head with trembling hands and stood, brushing grass from her skirt. Then rushed to greet her brother.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

It was still light out and pleasant when Cersei took Jaime’s arm and walked across the gardens. They walked among the various colorful flowers, shrubs and plants that Cersei had painstakingly and diligently worked on the past few months.

“Look at all these flowers you’ve grown sister. Shame, father couldn’t come, he would have been so proud.” Jaime grinned bashfully.

Cersei glared at him. “Yes, so proud that he would have named Casterly Rock after me.”

The twins sniggered at that.

Jaime stopped in his tracks and turned to look at his sister. “I see the annulment plans are going very well.”

Cersei’s cheeks blushed deep. “It is in motion.”

He eyed his twin intensely. Cersei found herself averting her gaze as she twirled her fingers in nervousness. Jaime could read her like an open book.

“He whistled. “I know that look. You’re falling in love.”

“Absolutely not. I know not to waste my time on frivolous things like love.” Cersei admonished her brother. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Jaime gave her a lopsided grin, “Don’t I? Have you slept with him yet sister?”

Cersei found herself getting angry at these personal questions. “I am not stupid,” she fumed.

“I don’t have to remind you what is at stake here. The annulment is going to base on the fact that he never touched you in all these months of your marriage. If you sleep with him, you won’t have any grounds for separation.”

She clenched and unclenched her fists. Jon didn’t mean anything to her, so then why did the thought of betraying him hurt so badly. The plan was simple. She had to be unpleasant and aloof, never share a bed and finally claim lack of intimacy in the marriage and get an annulment.

“Cersei?”

Jaime’s voice broke her out of her thoughts. She looked up at him, eyes wide with horror, and clasped her hands together. This could not be happening, she should not feel a thing for Jon. She took a deep breathe before speaking.

“Everything is going according to the plan. You go ahead and get me that ticket to America.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up Next:
> 
> “I beg your pardon,” Cersei replied as evenly as she could, “but your business with Lord Snow is?”
> 
> The young man raised an eyebrow and gave her a smile that Cersei immediately wanted to slap off of his face. “As beautiful as you are, I am not in the habit of discussing my business with servants.”


End file.
